Wrench has no choice but to turn his focus to the ScryWatch as the words begin to appear on its screen. In the short time he's been ashore, he's already come to regard the little accessory as a mixed blessing. Never in his life has he experienced something so convenient. Yet the same fact means it's more difficult for him to pretend he doesn't understand. There's a power in being inaccessible that's been ripped from him by the device. Maybe in time he can reclaim it, but now it's novelty enough that every little buzz has him turning back to his wrist to tune into what's being said.

He takes another step forward and touches the pattern that reminds him of a tidy row of feathers stuck from a quiver. It's less intricate, but no less impressive. He could use a little good fortune he thinks to himself as he runs a finger over the notches in the wood.

Do you work here? It's a clumsy way of asking the man's affiliation with the temple, and an even clumsier means of seeking out some kind of purpose for their being. Even after all these years, maybe Wrench is still searching for someone to give him direction.