The thoughts of others were usually a mile a away, he never even dwelt on it. The truth was though, once a man was stripped of all he knew that made him what he was it was opportunity for doubt to sink in.
He quieted down a little, head still spinning in all kinds of directions. He gave her a soft nod because it was all he could muster behind those big guilty eyes. A broken artist was worthless, at least in their own mind.