It's not shocking when Martin instinctively starts to minimize his own efforts, though it does leave John wondering if he's going to have to expand his awkward admission into an even more awkward defense. God knows how that would go over. He isn't even sure how to justify his own interest; it's just there, less because Martin's stories are objectively fascinating and more because they're Martin's.

But Martin course-corrects a moment later, thanking him in a fumbling sort of way. John smiles faintly, though there's a hint of guilt there, as well. He's not a complete idiot; he knows that any charm his own attention carries now exists in marked contrast to how coldly indifferent he used to be. The novelty of it is probably half the appeal.

The alternative -- that Martin likes it when John listens to him not just because John hadn't really listened to him before, but because no one had really listened to him before -- is so depressing that he refuses to really consider it. Though it does contribute to his stubborn determination to be attentive, just in case he has more than his own personal shortcomings to make up for.

"Well," John starts, fully aware that he should just let Martin go about his managerial business, but not wanting to, "I should get this mess back on the shelves, but then, if you're not too busy...?" He bends to start gathering up the files he'd spread across the carpet. "I mean, I'll be fine if you can't, it's not--not bad, yet." It's not really bad at all, if he's being honest with himself. He'd been feeling a bit bored and restless, but that isn't always symptomatic of a larger problem. He just...

He just wants. And while it's simpler to think that he's merely a conduit for the Eye's appetite for knowledge, he suspects that this wanting is just his.