You said, when we met, that it was a respectable craft. Sewing.

My mother taught me. I didn't...forget that. But I let other things obscure it.

[Maybe he shouldn't have. Maybe it was inevitable, with his world the way it was. But he's glad Ned said what he did, glad that he has re-attained something of his old comfort with it, instead of merely using it as something to take up his hands and his time that does not result in bloodshed.

This is why he wouldn't want just anyone else to help him, even if nearly anyone on the ship could have done it.]