There is a rattle of cans on each side of the doorway as Enver steps into the workshop. The thin, almost transparent line they were attached to breaks against Enver's boot to set off the makeshift alarm of weights, cans, and counterweights.
There is no immediate reaction if something is lurking here, or closeby. You cannot tell if anything has heard it.
The workshop has eight benches where simple materials like wood and metal were manufactured into finished products that the homes here needed with the use of skilled craftsmen and hand tools. Even before The Scream and the breaches that followed it, this sort of cottage industry arrangement was not uncommon on the frontier when supplies coming from more urban areas were on uncertain delivery schedules. The locals learned to adapt to as many of their own needs as possible, and this looks to be no different.