[Aunamee would have hated working in John and Amanda's workshops: tools and materials scattered everywhere, rust and chipped paint, the occasional spill of gear grease on work tables. Amanda can almost see him angrily cleaning and organizing it all, even though she and her chosen father knew where each and every little thing rested within the mess. A method to the madness.
Amanda stalks in with two of her hands inside her coat pockets; three others are free, and the last carries her hunting knife. She doesn't expect Aunamee to attack her, but who knows what might go wrong while they're working? Constant vigilance is her way of life.]
Yeah. [She's not going to broach the topic of that length of time, because she's doing her absolute fucking best to repress the space whale trauma.] You look well.
no subject
Amanda stalks in with two of her hands inside her coat pockets; three others are free, and the last carries her hunting knife. She doesn't expect Aunamee to attack her, but who knows what might go wrong while they're working? Constant vigilance is her way of life.]
Yeah. [She's not going to broach the topic of that length of time, because she's doing her absolute fucking best to repress the space whale trauma.] You look well.