[ He's thinking as Clint speaks, listening to him and them finally getting into the conversation putting Gorgug in a certain kind of ease: their situation isn't seen any better, that hope he had been wringing himself over believing on the way over not any more cemented. There's no full picture to be found, even over the text, that much was obvious; but there are lines being etched into what's visible, even if they're sketchy, without colour. Maybe it's just nice to get to talk to somebody else about, as much as Gorgug appreciates his friends.

It's been that nagging worry he'd expressed to Padme about who they can trust, how much they can depend on others when they were being put into competition. It's so easy to fall in your own groups--it's so easy to suspect people you don't know.

And who can blame them, when home is on the line? (Could he be ruthless?)

Nothing about this should be comfort, and Gorgug still sits on the island chair, hands loosely wrapped around the glass, but it's close enough. He isn't lost in his own head, even when he does think; and think he does when Clint last speak what he does, and Gorgug's eyes widen slightly--then look away, thinking, trying to know what that means to him. Is there anything there in his history he cares about her knowing? What does knowing him mean?

--Oh. He looks back at him, realisation in his gaze. ]

She knew I wanted to know how to build her companion bots. [ But-- unless? The creases by his eyes wrinkle in doubt. ] I asked her where they came from, and... I could've asked her how she fixes them before she said that...

[ Now is he being the paranoid one? He only remembers being surprised, not expecting it, but he can't help but to second-guess himself. Still, even with a sheepish note to it: ]

She said she'd teach me.

[ A sheepish, happy note. ]