It's adorable, and she can't even imagine how many people died in abject confusion staring into those eyes.
"Yes, it is," she says with a nod. "And that person can be me, or it can be someone else. But I'd like you to return here when you're done for a debrief. Sound good?"
He nods, slowly, a part of him he only half-knows feeling like should be able to manage with how many choices there are. He should be able to handle having options in the dining hall. He shouldn't be so relieved to have the clothes he came in fixed. He should be able to take things that don't look almost exactly the same out of the wardrobe.
"...What's the difference, between a craft and an art?"
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"Yes, it is," she says with a nod. "And that person can be me, or it can be someone else. But I'd like you to return here when you're done for a debrief. Sound good?"
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It's a more honest answer than 'sounds good.'
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"Great."
She glances over at the little bookshelf in the corner.
"Need any instructional books, you think? Or just going to wing it?"
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"Actually, I might look in the library. I, ah... I was..."
There's a real embarrassment in the words, even if he feels it more as sheepish than ashamed.
"I don't think I'd ever seen that many books in one place. I wasn't sure where to start."
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"...What's the difference, between a craft and an art?"