Hansel had, for the most part, been resigned to a two steps forward, monumental leap backward progression on the kiln since they started. For one thing, his fingers were often bloody and raw and that just made two days of consecutive work difficult. Assistance or not, building a blacksmiths from scratch was fucking difficult.
When they'd finally gotten it stable and worked on the steady production of heat for it, Hansel was fairly sure they'd hit the home stretch. He'd been around enough pyres to know how to make sustainable fire, and really, the blacksmiths was more 'home' like than anywhere else in this pit of damnation.
The only issue he saw cropping up was these new fangled weapons. He made a lot of his own and Gretel's artillery, it was far too expensive to replace weapons at the rate they used them, and the coin they made from hunting often went on food and shelter instead. New leathers when they needed. Supplies for weapons was easier and cheaper than weapons.
But if Booker and Sam had methods, instructions, assistance, they'd be much better equipped at least, and might stand a fighting chance of surviving this place.
Shouldering his way in, dumping some found metals for consumption, melting and remolding, Hansel raised an eyebrow at Booker in what approximated as a greeting.