JW had felt that exact worry days ago. A sudden stab of guilt shot through his chest for paying a little more attention to the dinner part of dinner. He was starving. And still hanging onto those few threads of 'this isn't going to work' that made him feel wise and safe and less likely to get hurt. The antlered man leaned forward, elbows on the table, chin in his hands.

"You know, I've been thinking, and as a carpenter, I think it just could be a good idea to give being a table a shot." He lifted his brows and tipped his antlers downward just a hair so that he could look up at Krem for once.