That's good. I can't imagine you without something to tinker with. Some sort of project to occupy your mind. Or your hands, for that matter.

[... when is the last time he had coffee, that said. He's dying to take a closer look at the music box Viktor is working on, but he doesn't want to disturb anything on the table. So he stands awkwardly near the door, rubbing his thumb against the rune on the inside of his wrist the way he used to fuss with his cuff.]

I still do. Some things don't change.