[ He beams at welcome mat. Takes a second to stick his head out the door, there's some scrapey thumpy scratching noise, and then he pops back in to close it behind him.

He's got that enthusiastic kind of energy he usually only gets about new projects or, once, a monster bat. Has him flopping down too enthusiastically on his couch, jostling the the little pleasant pot paraphernalia tray he'd had on the middle cushion. Ladies and gentlemen, the professional is back. ]

Dude, you have no idea. I tried to take up glass blowing once back home. One time, and never again. At least woodworking won't burn your fucking hand off.