Twisting his face in a very 'and I am supposed to care why?' sort of way, an eyebrow raised with an irritated quiver on his lip. He looks to the familiar, still hiding, so he wouldn't get thrown out a damn window. "I don't make hats." spoken with a snide twist. A screech of the wheels as he shoves off the space around the girl. Opening small drawers and plucking out small bits and buttons, He stands from his stool, "This isn't 20 questions." The dude stared at her blankly, a glint in his eye. "Shut your trap. Thanks." Lifting a foot and placing it on the thing and flinging it off to the side,