[Lucius has absolutely no idea what this man is saying. None whatsoever.

Oh, he understands the words perfectly on an individual basis. The long authoritative drawl this fellow has cultivated is impressively and exceptionally clear, and Lucius is extremely motivated to 'listen here'. Unfortunately, he must have hit his head when he was tossed overboard--maybe swallowed too much seawater--does he have another infected extremity he hadn't noticed?

He feels like he's listening through a filter, like trying to read in a dream, and no matter how much he wants to, he cannot make sense of this man's statements.

He jumps a bit when Mr. Eames sets a hand on his and freezes--like a spooked animal--but still no, he has not the faintest clue what he is saying. Lucius could not possibly look more lost and confused.]

So I...should or shouldn't leave it soft? I...don't know how to do that. The soft part?

[He gestures with his wooden finger at the whole...floor situation in front of him.]

Is it not...this? It's probably not this. Right, I will...keep...trying?