He stared at her as heat climbed up the back of his neck and set his ears to blazing. He couldn't help it. She was looking at him funny.
"It's work. Why would I mind?" he temporized, turning away abruptly to head toward the hidden door of his workshop. "C'mon. I need to write you up."
Greg was sorta hoping that she wouldn't follow since there was the potential for all sorts of awkwardness but he could hear her footsteps on the worn wooden floor right behind him. He held the door to the workshop open for her but carefully didn't look at her.
Even with a strange (in more ways that one) witch in the room, the workshop still relaxed him. He stood more freely there and had less of a tendency to hunch in on himself. The room was flooded with light from the high windows and smelled of sawdust and varnish. It was cluttered with tools and half finished projects and raw materials but he knew where ever file and nail and saw was without even having to think about it.