Quentin's hands busied themselves in other parts of his workshop. They found oddjobs tidying this counter, or fiddling with this project, though they never got too involved in anything. They were doing small tasks that didn't need to be done, simply because they found the rote actions comforting and easy.<br/><br/>The rest of Zoey's master was focused on her, though. His eyes slid across as she dropped to the floor with a quiet thump, and a louder yelp. A small smile crept across his mouth and he shook his head - as though to say<i>honestly? </i>- before glancing aside. It was only the small enjoyment he scrounged from seeing her legs buckle that saved her from a derisive comment, or worse.<br/><br/>That she rose up and set about cleaning the whitish mess smeared over the tabletop improved his position toward her, and several times he glanced across. That she was wordlessly going about her task appeased him, and he bit back comments about the slight dip in her posture or the way she stood at an angle, limiting his view. He might be a perfectionist, but he knew not to rush things, and for now her obedience was enough to turn his slight smirk from derisive toward glad.<br/><br/>He slipped from the room, vanishing for a moment before returning with a damp cloth. The water had been sourced from the nearby rec room and was cold, but it was at least some small step toward considerate. He tossed it to one end of the table. "Tidy yourself up, too. And get dressed. In your own time." His hands returned to tidying and fidgeting, but his eyes lingered with Zoey.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>