"Are you?" John replies, laced with skepticism, before he can think better of it. "You haven't turned a page in—" he cuts himself off abruptly, huffing out a frustrated breath through his nose. It isn't even Martin he's frustrated with, or not entirely; if he really wants to make this into a conversation, he's not going to get anywhere via bloody sarcasm. He has to do better.

"Martin..." he tries, gentler, reaching hesitantly for his arm.