“Yes,” Jane says, bouncing lightly on her feet. She could almost skip up to the workshop door. “You understand. It’s different.” It’s a beautiful day. The overgrown yard is in bloom--she doesn’t garden, just lets it grow, and it’s a riot of tall grass and blossoming bushes and, probably, a lot of weeds. She doesn’t think about it much, except for now when the breeze is blowing through it and the sun is striking it, sending all the pleasant, green scents toward herself and Kathryn as they approach the garage alongside, making her feel like she could float with pleasure. “It’s different. To touch something. And... Work with your hands. Holo tools are fine. Simulations are fine. But... Drawing. Making. It’s different.” She rolls the garage door up.
Inside it’s not so very messy. It’s been worse, and the floor is clear, at least. Her hands start tangling together. It’s a strange mixture of sensations, the bubbly, sun-bright happiness that makes her think she could almost lift off the floor, and the tension that makes her fingers knit, bony knuckles worrying against each other. She doesn’t like having people in her space. She doesn’t know if Kathryn will like being here. She doesn’t know if what she’s going to offer is silly, or will have that particular quality of too-much that she can’t seem to control. But she thinks she can trust Kathryn. She thinks if there’s anyone trustworthy in the world, it’s her. And her smile!
“I wanted to make you a gift. Normally... I fix things. Or... I put furniture together. For people. But. You’re not someone who... Needs my help. I did think about making you a stepstool.” Only the smallest upward quirk of her lips betrays the joke. “I started making this.” It’s Leonardo da Vinci’s winged flying machine--at a very small scale, of course. Small enough to be a model airplane. It occupies part of the worktable. “I thought... I thought I’d wait. And we’d finish it together. Because I know you like... Making. We could even paint it. Whatever you want to do. As long as you had fun.”
