pray with hands we don't have

He thought about her question, not wanting to admit it had been something he'd considered enough. She seemed to be able to read him better than most, peer around his aloof exterior to get a peek at his interests and perspectives beyond. He returned his gaze to the stones once more, if he'd been a less honest man and a better actor he would have made a show of thinking about it. Might have furrowed his brows in contemplation, instead he merely blinked, slow and steady.

"Perhaps. It would be a lot of work for something so...cosmetic though." But worth it? He couldn't decide, didn't want to admit that the thought of having gates within the maze might make him sentimental. Show that he was indeed reaching out for what was long-lost to him, established foundations of a legacy that he could no longer claim to be a part of.