Mac chuckled and shrugged, setting his pen down and draping his arms over the body of the guitar. "I don't know... I think there's so much out there that's the same cookie-cutter crap as everything else that a unique mind is a thing that shouldn't be wasted - if you have one, that is." He shrugged and reached out for his coffee, taking a long drink and feeling the burn at the back of his throat spread down his chest. It was actually pretty nice.
"What sort of stuff do you write?" he asked, setting the cup down and tossing his hair out of his face again.