Martin nods along with the clarifications, still smiling; it's oddly charming to see John so tentative about this, as though it hasn't been happening this whole time, but he understands the caution. It isn't until John's final hesitant admission that he stalls out a bit, frankly startled.

"I—oh," he blurts before he looks down at the box, his sheepish smile returning. "I mean, they're just..." His thoughts catches over the inclination to dismiss the remark. John doesn't say things he doesn't mean. And it's... it's good to hear that he actually does like them, so close on the heels of Martin's assumptions that he mustn't, surely. Part of him wants to stammer Why? but that seems unnecessarily interrogative. Maybe he can just... try taking that to heart.

"Thank you," he says. "I... I like telling them. I mean, I like—I like that you listen. I mean, obviously you have to, that's kind of the point, but—"

He stops with an anxious breath of laughter. "Well, I've got plenty more, so just... let me know when you're feeling peckish." He chuckles awkwardly and then clears his throat.