Half of what's contained in this shop is a mystery to Wrench. Every book and every bottle is a lesson he foolishly thought they'd have more time to get around to. Long, frigid nights still on the horizon where he imagined himself sitting alongside John as the man explained a bit more of what he knew about magic. He knows now he's a fool to have ever let himself get complacent. How could he think their time was guaranteed after watching so many others he's loved disappear? Wrench purses his lips and watches Luna write faster, like there's a thought she doesn't want to risk leaving her mind before she gets it down.

He'll have to find someone else to teach him. Someone willing to let him into their mind, and someone he trusts enough to open up his to their perusal. Telepathy's an ironic power for a man like Wrench who's spent his whole life learning how to mitigate conversation, but it feels so invasive. The first time it happened with John, it had been a complete accident.

When she hands the notebook back, Wrench almost laughs at the words. His green eyes practically smile as he looks to the page and her and back again. It's your shop, not a halfway house for a grown man. You wouldn't be comfortable, would you?