"Hello," he says, turning to the familiar sound of her voice, not quite bright, but attentive to her presence. More than her familiarity, so close to a piece of the life he left in the Pacific islands--Moana seems curious and capable. Useful, in a place like this.

"Already getting started," he asks, nodding at the branches behind her. The hatchet tool he found at the main inn is shoved through the loop of the jeans he found down the hall: he's had some practice with its features, and he's starting to understand how it swaps out into different tools. It isn't going to fell a real tree any better than the one she's carrying, but maybe if they went at it from the opposite sides--

If she's even building a canoe. "Are those just for a frame, or are you looking to build a raft?"