[color=#1A1A3B][b][u][h1][sub][sub][sub]Farren[/sub][/sub][/sub][/h1][/u][/b][/color]                  shifted his gaze from the worker, taking in the various tools being used in the large workshop as well as what seemed to be getting done therein. The man’s response elicited little reaction from him, only a grunt in fact. What he’d found more interesting was the name that the fellow had used in a way far too casual–Crowmother.

As he’d thought, the locals were entirely aware of whatever had utterly thrashed the beasts back in the plaza. Farren silently flexed and relaxed his jaw a few times, teeth pressing together and apart for a moment (mouth still closed) before he caught mention of the ladder they could use. Farren’s gaze found it swiftly and rather than wait–knowing he’d easily be able to hear the conversation even from the far end of the factory, Farren headed towards the thing.

As he walked, he took in the various materials, garb, machines, work stations, and other miscellaneous objects and properties of the workspace therein. He didn’t necessarily need to know what was there, but nonetheless Farren had always had some interest in such things so they caught his attention almost despite himself. A moment later his long, purposeful strides brought him to the ladder, which he regarded for a moment before glancing about, then grabbing it. Carefully, he maneuvered it down under his arm without having the long thing strike anyone or anything around him. He carried it under his left arm, hand on the bottom of it, fingers in a wide grip. He was surprised at how light it was despite its size, something he instinctively knew was more due to the changes in his own body than any property of the object itself.

As he got partway back to the others, Farren paused and gently set down the ladder, before turning to one of the nearby workers.

[color=#1A1A3B][b]“Hate to bother, but any chance one of you have a spare knife? Just something sturdy and functional,”[/b][/color] Farren clarified after asking, his piercing azure eyes fixed on the closest worker. He didn’t [i]intend[/i] to appear intimidating, or unsettling, but Farren’s eyes had always been rather striking and after the ministration they’d become even moreso. Further…the fact that he was armed to the gills did him no favors in coming off as non-threatening even at the best of times. Still, the way he asked was markedly casual, relaxed even, though his senses remained attuned to his surroundings in a way they simply couldn’t for a normal human–something that would likely come off as an at least slightly unnerving degree of intensity.

Nonetheless, there he remained, waiting for a reply.