“No, I know— I get it. I mean, at least conceptually, I get it.” He shakes his head a little, a small smirk in one corner of his mouth, “You just get this look and I love it, I l— literally wish I had even half of that kind of passion for anything. I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything as much as you love art, in every form.”

The stumble over his own words is subtle, but the spike of something a little bit like panic is hard to ignore. There was definitely something else that nearly tripped out of his mouth, there— and he hopes Mark just ignores it.