Winter watches him, back-- more directly than Stevie does, though still habitually without the eye contact-- but doesn't flee. Even if a little part of him wants to, he fights it. "Probably." Then a pause, as his eyes flick down to the table and the tools there. No drill. It's big enough that it doesn't fit in the actual toolbox.

Well, he does know where he left it last time he used it. "Drill's in the garage," he offers.