"Nothing worth anything is easy, kiddo," Peyote replied, and it wasn't so much a piece of advice as it was a confirmation. That his grandson-brother had struggled, he had no doubt. "Tying new threads...it's easy to flub up, sometimes they break anyway, and sometimes your fingers are too unwieldy to do the trick, but you know, you gotta start somewhere, kiddo. There's gotta be a beginning to be found somewhere..." And Peyote wasn't here to judge, he didn't want to commentate on who should have tried, and who should have tried harder. It wasn't his business, and he couldn't have judged if he tried. He loved his family...unconditionally, and he would foster their communion and their unity, never anything that would tear them apart.
And then his attention was back on Tracer, and on his words. He watched him laugh, watched him scowl, listened to his words. "And you've done well, my brother, you've done well. You've done the best you can and that means the world, you know. You've all done well, you know, each and every one of you. It's been a time, life is a whole bundle of times, and that's all. You take everything in stride...what else can you do?"
He sighed and kept walking, heartened by the occasional brushing of his arm against his grandson-brothers, by the fresh air and the park and the people all around. He did love this city, he loved everything about it, and being here allowed him to breath a sigh of relief that he hadn't been aware of holding. "A Nook? Tell me, kiddo, what nook?"