[Still sorting and he's almost got a door. Almost has all the pieces for it, anyway and he turns to look at Matt as if that actually matters to someone's who's blind. Matt's doing a pretty good job of sorting through the debris, though. There's that? Clearing his throat, Quentin says-]

I'm kind of just used to small things? Like chairs or roof shingles or shit like that, trying to fix this place? Wow, I mean, I'm glad I'm not the only one here, because there's no way I could do even half of this and not burn out or fall over or something.

[And he's just about to invite Matt to see him do the magic, when - again - he notices the dark glasses. Right. So no. But maybe Matt can feel it anyway, when Quentin let's his hand hover over the nearest pile of rubble, twisting his fingers together in a complex pattern of shapes and the pile rises up in to the air. Hovering, moving in circles around each other until they each find the piece they're supposed to be connected to. Quentin draws his fingers up tighter, palms flat and out towards the miniature cyclone of wooden pieces and he makes them connect, makes the pieces feel just where they belong and their connection flares up in a bright light as they reassemble slowly, floating midair.]