Wouldn't claim to feel the same we felt the first time it was heard
"Hettie, Glas." She corrects his greeting automatically, almost certain she's given him permission to use the nickname before. They might not be close, but that doesn't mean she doesn't consider him a friend, albeit in a distant way. He'd disappeared, and she hadn't heard too much of him, had let him drift away from her thoughts, except in occasional anecdotes. Even considering that, Glas is probably is the closest thing she has to an actual friend here.
For a moment, she considers him, the unspoken question. She thinks about ignoring it, forcing him to voice it. "Fixing the table." An echo, before she slips off the edge of into and into a crouch beside Glas, peering at the tools curiously. "So what do we do first?" She asks, inserting herself into the task without question, not giving him room to deny her. This is exactly the kind of distraction she needed, that they both probably needed.
For a moment, she considers him, the unspoken question. She thinks about ignoring it, forcing him to voice it. "Fixing the table." An echo, before she slips off the edge of into and into a crouch beside Glas, peering at the tools curiously. "So what do we do first?" She asks, inserting herself into the task without question, not giving him room to deny her. This is exactly the kind of distraction she needed, that they both probably needed.
Hester
