Tarn watches as Spinister kicks the crate over, irritation building at his near constant chatter.

"I'm not certain. I didn't stumble upon anything useful while scoping out this building. Just dust and old furniture."

He shifts on the berth to find a more comfortable position, causing it to creak. Still better than a table. Or the floor.

Tarn stares at Spinister as he lays out supplies on the nightstand from his field kit. This would hurt, Tarn knew. Digging a bullet out of his protoform is different that reattaching some wires.

Taking on look at the old stained supplies that Spinister is preparing, Tarn opts to look away. He doesn't want to know where those have been.