"Why would you think that?" he asks, coming to stand beside her again, to watch as she draws. It's true she's might not be displaying her work in a gallery any time soon, but Marcus isn't either. That's not what drawing and painting are about for him. They're a release, a way to get the things inside his head out and onto paper, a way to put them out of his mind in a way. In some ways he thinks she understands that rather well.

But he's curious about her statement. The Dutch he knows is a rather remarkable woman, someone he can't imagine a parent ever wanting to lose touch with, but he knows there are untouched years he's never even heard about. She doesn't know all the things he's done either, the people he's hurt even while he's loved them fiercely. No one knows about Mouse.