As Kellen's still studying the chains overhead, he can't follow Ruckus' line of sight, and in any case he definitely couldn't follow the man's train of thought. Therefore he only sighs in disappointment for the repetition and runs a hand through his hair, making it even more hopelessly mussed. Perhaps discussing Ruckus' lack of consideration for anyone's feelings (his own included, surely) isn't the best way to pass the next hour without succumbing to the urge to either kick him while he's down, or escape to the secret attic room post-haste, there to remain until Ruckus heals and goes.

With a sudden air of decision, Kellen sits up in one swift movement - still ever-energetic despite the weed - and reaches to reclaim his smoke, before Ruckus forgets about it and sets fire to the bed. "So." He pauses to take a drag, and grasps for an acceptably neutral topic that will still be of interest. It doesn't take long to decide on one. "How long've you known Duster?"