He felt a little guilty at giving up on his task, but judging by the lack of sound from outside the room, he wasn't the first to come to the conclusion that a break was in order. He rolled his shoulders back to let some of the tension out of his neck as he crossed the room. I wonder if the construction ponies have the same kind of work schedule that highway workers do? Maybe they have unions, or mob connections. He glanced back at the books—he could hardly ask until he learned their language, but it wasn't something he was going to get by reading a book. It hadn't worked in Mrs. Brown's Spanish class in high school, and it wasn't going to work now.