"I--only if you want to," John hastens to clarify. The way Martin lit up at the suggestion is... indicative, he thinks (he hopes), that Martin likes the idea of carrying on as they have been. But that doesn't mean he shouldn't be given the option of a breather, if nothing else. "If you wanted a break, or something, that'd be fine."

He rests his hand on the familiar edge of the ordinary box -- such an absurd thing to miss, but every refreshed detail, from Gertrude's distinct, tidy hand (her penmanship, if nothing else, was neat), to the dusty paper scent of the Archive, hits him with an almost physical force. He hadn't realized how much those little things were already starting to fade around the edges. It's almost enough to make him want to dig in immediately, just for the bloody nostalgia, but... no. Better to wait.

"I just... like the idea of having an insurance policy," he says, offering Martin a tentative smile. "Something to fall back on if there's a problem." It's more than that, of course, and he doesn't know if it's the Eye or something else that compels him to add, "And I... I like your stories." That truth hangs solitary in the air for a moment before he pats the box and appends, "Less grim than this lot."