"Hrm," Yamato watched the strange woman from beneath his eyelashes, tracking her movements as his thin fingers bent and twisted the thin metal. "This is incredibly mundane compared to what materials they used in the Scorpio District."

That place had been downright bizarre to him. People created 'art' from many mediums, many materials, or sometimes it wasn't even art at all, just splotches of paint on a canvas that a small child could do if armed with a paint gun. It left Yamato a bit puzzled about what really constituted as art (as, it was his understanding that it was work like Leonardo da Vinci, or something like that).