Despite the obstinate chokehold Wrench appears to want to maintain on his own scowl, he does smirk a little at that. Almost. It comes out more like a derisive snort of hot air, but he shakes his head all the same. Evidently we have universal basic income, but no microwaves. Not that he had either back home, though Wrench is starting to realize how little money has ever meant to him, up to this point. It’s only now that he’s trying to play by the rules of society and keep his actions well within their margins of acceptability that he understands the need for cash on hand.

The tall man scowls at the shelves and shakes his head. Honestly? I’d do better with a campfire in the backyard than a stove. But I think the neighbors might take it as an act of aggression and cart me off. He doesn’t know why he lets this little fact slip; perhaps it’s just the ease with which the words tumble from his hands and are received by Chell. In any event, it’s a fact that’s not out in the world.