"Stuff," she echoes with a slightly amused smile, handing him the second bowl to dry. She's not entirely sure whether he meant to say that follow-up statement out loud, glancing at him just in time to catch the look he throws toward the stairs. She wonders if he just gets so caught up in tinkering, or whether he actively seeks to lose track of time in his work so as not to notice any feelings of loneliness. She knows she does that, sometimes.

"Newspaper, huh? On a tablet or something?" He can't possibly mean an actual paper newspaper. She'd be very (pleasantly) surprised if he did. A stubborn lock of hair keeps getting in her eye and she lifts one wet hand, pushing it back with her wrist.