"Nothing's useless," he says, which his packed closet can attest to. He's continued his last incarnation's tradition of never throwing anything away, even with the loss of that deeper intuition, that knew exactly what to pick up when, and eventually figured out why.

Now he just goes for quantity over quality: if he has everything, it'll be there when he needs it. "Which I guess also applies to benched inventors. We just have to find a use for you."

And a fresh dose, now delivered, for the reading or otherwise induced aches. "I'm going to see if there are any last minute peaches growing, if you want to hike-and-bake. I can carry your shit." Which, considering his usual company is chosen for their ability to carry his shit, is not an offer made lightly.