After dinner and conversation and the two guests of the evening taking their leave, Bush sat down in the living room in front of a small fire. Not with a book - reading was something of an effort, for he had to concentrate and Bush preferred to (if he was wasting his time) do something a bit more...active. Something that involved his hands. He currently was shaving away at a smallish piece of wood. Nothing intricate, but he was planning on doing something with it. He just didn't know what yet.