It may be incremental progress, but Wrench will take it for what it’s worth. The fact that the man no longer seems intent on landing a few punches in his general direction is a good thing. Physicality has always played a role in Wrench’s way of navigating through things. He’s not always been able to ask for what he wants, but he’s often managed to take it by force. Of course, he’s been the target of similar more times than he’d like to count. Having always been bigger than his peers, he’s gotten used to those that see him as a Goliath to be slain. That doesn’t happen so much any more. Now, generally, when people see him coming, they try like hell to get out of his way.

Which might be part of what’s so fascinating about all of this. Under his metronomic touch, the man seems to actually be calming. Wrench breathes again, slow and steadily. Inhale, pause, pat. Exhale, pause, pat. When the man’s shoulders seem to droop, he figures it’s time to come clean. But how?

Still tapping the rhythm, Wrench reaches for the man’s right wrist. If allowed, he means to direct the man’s index finger in a jab towards his own broad chest, as if to indicate to himself. Then, use the man’s whole hand to cover his ear and shake his head. It’s a pitiful improvisation, but it’s the best he’s got for right now.