"Umm," Ford mumbled, trying to think. He moved one hand to his mouth and lightly chewed the knuckle on his thumb. He had tried to watch everything Darrow had done, but it had been hard to see too much without being conspicuous. And things had been a little hodge-podge in Darrow's makeshift workshop, so he hadn't actually measured out each one specifically. Ford felt like that might be good information to share with Noble, but when he tried to think of what to say his mouth started feeling weird again. By the time he'd thought through enough to have the phrasing in mind his tongue felt heavy again.

He opened his mouth and tried to say when Darrow made this he put this one in his hand, like he was measuring it against his palm, but what he actually said was nothing. Ford swallowed, tried again.

"One sprig of this one," he said, pointing. No trouble there, but he twisted it together with this other thing was stuck in his throat. Was there any rhyme or reason to what he was able to say clearly at the moment?

"I don't know about a lot of them," he said, moving back to retrieve the glass of water. He cleared his throat, took a drink. And it was almost a month ago now, he tried to say. He cleared his throat again. "I guess I don't remember."