The direction draws a quick glance from Benjiro, enough to see that worry written so plainly in his friend. He then follows the cue to the shelf, and picks up the tool he had been looking for, “...thanks.” Along with it, he picks up the screws in his other hand to put away properly.

As he settles back on his metal stool to sit at the bench, he speaks as his hands work and his eyes stay on the task, “...you can say it.” Whatever made him look at him like that.