[ his glance drifts over martin again, taking in the weird, fuzzy.. something, trying to make sense of it in spite of what he'd told himself about not looking. ]

I understand, a little, [ he says softly, and flips his own hands over so martin can see the needle scars over his veins. they curl in against his chest again after. ] I wasn't in the right, um.. head-space for a while, either, though for different reasons. It almost took my art completely, I think.

[ he takes a hand-towel down, offering it out and blinking at the question. ] I-- [ ah. ] .. Memories, mostly. [ these days, at least. ] I have a lot of surrealist and abstract influences, you could say.