"Eh," he says idly, even as he's starting to consider a few ideas at the back of his mind. Smaller versions of the abstract sort of pieces that adorned countless New York lobbies, walkways, and subway stations, full of color and movement and fodder for the imagination. "S'just a thought."

He shrugs it off for now, deciding to let it go until he's had some more time to process the thought. "How're the pancakes?"