At least talking about geography - while still irritating as hell here - is multitudes easier than trying to talk timelines. Although honestly, nearly anything is easier to talk about than timelines, whether you're talking about personal experience or your favorite sci-fi tv show.

"There's got to be a way to rig up some kind of compass," he says, in the tone that people use to indicate they're both skeptical and disappointed you haven't thought of this already. There must be a reason she hasn't, but that doesn't mean he's not going to ride her about it. "Also, 'literally'? Are you being like, shoved into rock faces, or what?"

Anyway. He watches her fencing stance demonstration with vague amusement, manfully not letting himself be sad again about the state of the tools within the shop in general. He's totally okay with them, okay. He even manages not to have any visible reaction either way when she mentions his dad, and weapons. "I've got a couple ideas for arrowheads," he starts, moving a couple things that don't really need moving but work better with the organizational system he's come up with in the last seventeen seconds. "Clubs are a bit on the obtuse side of whatever physicalities we seem to have in abundance though."