There's probably some irony in the fact that the two of them are standing here off to the side and eagerly chatting about the way hearing people chat. Wrench knows he could spend half the night conversing with somebody with whom it's so easy to do. Brain texting still requires shaping his thoughts into an entirely different language; he hasn't tested and doesn't trust that the texts would come out grammatically correct if he thought them in ASL. But this feels like the simplest thing in the world, and he knows he could get lost for hours in it.

Bay's assessment of what's been the most difficult challenge makes him snort again. This time, he shakes his head like he knows he's being fucked with. She's got to be teasing him. Wrench hasn't experienced that sense of loss. He has no idea how he'd take it if he were faced with something comparable, but he doubts most hearing people would be totally at ease with such a sudden change.

You had a good foundation. What if I told you that you're the first Deaf person I've ever met? He waggles his eyebrows, like it's part-challenge.