Her eyes trail up the wooden frames, gazing at the crossbeams, then outward at the beginnings of a layout left long unfinished. There's something empty about this place, beyond the obvious . . . something wistful, and maybe even lonely.

. . . Nonsensical, though. Buildings can't feel.

With a nod, she steps forward into the space, moving towards the warp pad. A last glance at him: ". . . Are you really going to need all of that?"

That cuckoo clock looks a little suspect.