"Did we all just go crazy?" Seraphine asked.
"I was going to build her a bed," Bork said, looking at the pile of wood he had apparently gathered without knowing it. "Why was I going to make her a bed?"
"I was going to make a seven-course meal," Lylia said in a soft voice. "At 10 a.m."
"I hate these gloves," Marina said. "Greg, these are worse than the shoes you wear to dance."
"How are they worse than the dancing boots?"
"Because they hurt you so much when you care! You just had to dance in the boots, but these make you care about someone's health to an insane degree!"
Greg carefully picked up the gloves, as if they could explode. "I was trying to make gloves that would keep me warm. How did I end up making weapons of love?
"Because you are who you are," Marina said. "You can use anything as a peaceful tool, even good feelings, it seems."
The door to the workshop flew open, and Bernard, the chief of the village, ran in looking scared. "Greg! There is a problem!"
