It's as if the boy's anxiety wants to choke the air around the both of them. Wrench can't help but feel agitated by it. There's something unsettling about it, and it makes him want to do whatever he can to soothe that nervous bead of energy that he can't find the cause of. When the stranger ducks his head away, he very nearly scowls. Wrench pulls back his Omni and taps at the screen just in time to catch the tail end of the spoken words. I'm sorry. The words tap themselves out on the screen, clear but lacking in context. He frowns more deeply and shakes his head.

Be sorry to your hands, not to me. Do you have somewhere to go to clean up?