Rusty seemed quite pleased with Glas and what he wanted. The workers shuffled until they had gathered all of what Glas wanted. When he offered to fix his table, Noah leaned forward and closed the distance. He grabbed an edge of the table and shook it. "Rusty, this table is a piece of shit. Ain't got nothing on the table I have. This kids family made my table. He'll give you something good." Noah turned his head to look at Glas, a smile creeping up one side of his face. Noah was trying to sell the younger man's offer, but he did not need to. The craftsmanship would speak for itself. The Westfalls were incredibly skilled. Rusty grumbled, but it was an agreeable sort of grumble that was assuring that the payment was good enough for him.
As Glas revealed the rest of his project, Noah raised an eyebrow. While the Olson man was not musically talented nor inclined, it was interesting to him that Glas was. "A flute?" He asked, quietly, out of the range of the gruff lumberjacks that might latch onto it as some sort of joke. "Can you play a flute?"
