Wrench casts a sidelong glance at Logan as they take off. It's a shade less than disbelieving, but the quirk of his brow leaves no question that he's curious as to why. You're serious? he wonders in a sign he'd be curious to know how the ScryWatch translates. Do you believe what the ferryman said? You think we can change things here? It's not as though the notion -- the hope, perhaps -- hasn't occurred to him in the past. But it seems to strike differently when the sentiment comes from a man like Logan, rather than someone whose watch is already hovering at shades of green.

One such brightly-lit hallway advertises a JCPenney at its end, but the shops they pass in the meanwhile aren't all so familiar to Wrench by name. He peers through the glass windows of candy stores and toy shops and jewelry counters and one peculiar space that seems only to boast a hundred toy ornithopters hanging from the ceiling by strings.

So they can show you how smooth it is after they scrub you with their lotion, he remarks, his interest and curiosity blooming. It's a dismissive response, but something stops Wrench dead in his tracks and he turns on Logan with a grin he can only just barely conceal. Actually, you ought to let them. Imagine what they'd think if they saw your claws.