wear the moon like a halo

One board goes up, nailed down, followed by another. He’s almost blissfully unaware of what goes on around him, almost of course, given the fact that he’s too focused on ensuring someone doesn’t come up and stab him in the back. I suppose you could say he’s a bit on edge and aiming to throw himself into his work. Regardless, he does notice as someone’s steps slow, as they falter ever so slightly, but he focuses instead on hammering that next board into place, before he withdraws to grab more nails and the last board for the window.

His gaze casts over to Maeve – it’s different this time, not as dark as it had been the night they’d met. No, this time it’s brighter given the light outside, melding into he storm clouds as they approach,  exhausted as evident from where the bags sit under them. Her voice settles on him and the smile he offers her is small as he shrugs his broad tattooed shoulders. “[say]I do a surprising amount of work. Whether or not you all believe it is another story.[/say]” He offers her, a roundabout way of greeting her, before he’s sticking another four nails between his teeth, grabbing another board to place. “[say]What brings you this way, Maeve?[/say]” He says around the nails, warped in both the accent and the items between his teeth.

He can guess a few reasons why, but he’s curious as to what she says.