Though he was getting the stitches down right, Hemming hadn't quite optimized the procedure. His hands were twisted in a rather awkward way, the left one grasping the needle from beneath and his right hand wrapped tightly around the back of the other needle, and the strand he was using weaved through his fingertips unnecessarily. The wolf was still holding the book open with one foot, and had the other leg folded up to stabilize himself. He was too involved in his work to change positions, and on top of that he felt as if he would get out of the groove of the art and forget how to do it if he moved at all. It was quite a contorted posture that he had adopted, and on top of all of that there was a bird on top of his head. Truly (hopefully), this must have been the most ridiculous Hemming had looked in a long time.
The absurdity of his appearance was not even a fleeting thought, and when someone else grew near and uttered a greeting, he paused for a moment, looking up with his tongue secured between his teeth in concentration. He froze his fingers in the exact position they were in when he had stopped knitting, as if the act of abandoning their posts would lead to certain failure. The wolf wasn't making anything special, but he tackled the test run with intent. After the half a second it took for him to shift from thinking so hard about the string to realizing he didn't recognize this wolf, a small smile crossed his face. "Hello. Watcha up to?" he asked, his mind still too tied up to really think about what he was saying. The question really should be passing the opposite way between the wolves, as the other wasn't doing anything particularly odd, but it seemed like a common greeting and Hemming was still easing into the part of his thought process that dealt with social interaction.
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