Most things would, Wrench snarks agreeably. It feels good. It's almost like a catharsis to say something like that and know the recipient can relate. Even in his life back home, Wrench hasn't known many Deaf people. Part of the reason he has no sign name to offer to Bay is that there's no one left on earth to talk about him behind his back. At least no one who would do so in ASL. They have to talk around the point, though. He sticks out his tongue in a non-manual expression of carelessness, directing the tip of one pointer finger in a meandering path to and fro that never quite touches the outstretched pointer finger of the other hand.

It might not be a problem, though. Apart from the beasts that came through the rifts earlier on, Solvunn appears relatively safe. Wrench isn't too worried about being gone from his body a little while longer. Especially when he's enjoying the freedom to converse and to people-watch.

He does give Bay a skeptical frown as she recounts the story of how she wound up deaf. Though when she insists it's strange, he brushes it off. You told me you know the Devil, and I said I'd spoken to one of god's messenger angels. We're way past weird.