Dejah touches the thin silver bracelet she always wears and then, slips on a pair of long gloves. A pale shimmer of blue light quickly covered the gloves and she began shifting the plates over to the forge. She had tongs laid out so she could move them in and out of the forge itself, and there were a series of hammers laid out beside the small anvil at her workstation.

"Oh, it's your arm. You do whatever you feel is necessary. It's my job to put you back together after." She slowly moved the first series of plates into the center of the forge, letting them heat up slowly. "This is a tool, Curtis. I will only be upset with you if you treat it like some sort of delicate piece of jewelry, all right?"