"Earplugs? No, um." They should have been prepared for that question, suddenly feeling as though they might actually need to pretend to work here (before that sudden spike in the back of her head subdues itself). "I usually just use my Walkman to block these things out. It's a lot more tolerable if it's my own music instead of something that other people choose for me."

That's an interesting way of putting it, though, and they glance around in the direction of the nearest speaker—they remember having seen something glinting, after all. "It does sound like there's something wrong with it, though," they agree, and their phone buzzes again in their pocket, and they ignore it for the 14th time and hope that Nautis doesn't hate them for it. They turn their head to the other person, who is rapidly becoming a partner in mundane, everyday crime, at this rate. "We could get a ladder?"