Martin can't keep from giggling at John's amusement, and his little snort of a laugh, and he tips forward a bit, trying to rein himself in. He's being ridiculous. It's nice. It's nice to be ridiculous. The bile of doubt and guilt tries to rise up again and he fiercely pushes it back. Later. Later problem, with the hangover.

John is making a good point, besides. "Ooh," Martin says approvingly. "We'll have that market well cornered."

He can't imagine what sort of archival market there is in this place, but who knows, honestly. "S'pose we'll need some sort of... output? I mean we aren't self-sustaining. We'd have to provide. Y'know, the. Goods n' services. Something." He's not built to think about this right now. He rests his head briefly on the table. "I'll work it all out. With... with spreadsheets."