Two bedrooms in an apartment this size really didn't earn the title of nice, but Rory didn't bother correcting him. It seemed like a palace when she looked at the tiny amount of space each of them was awarded in the safehouses. The only reason she had a door to hide behind was because of her son, and his need for a crib.
Rory just nodded to acknowledge his appreciation, and continued forcing staples through the thick, ugly fabric.
"Double-sided tape doesn't require as much muscle," she quipped, more than happy to relinquish the staple gun when O'Brien approached, offering help. Without a task at hand, Rory was free to arch an eyebrow and frown at the mention of the man's latest accident.
"A wall falls on you, and you think it's a fine time to frolic through Brooklyn, huh?" she asked, lips pursing slightly as an air of attitude slipped into her stance. After nearly seeing the man bleed to death, Rory felt a little peeved at the idea of him getting crushed by falling buildings or whatever.