"...Interesting?" Sander wheels around, something unhinged...raw etched across his face. If the shambles of his home showed anything, it displayed how cracked things truly were; held together by bits and pieces of raw stubbornness and nostalgia. Falcon's worried expression flying right over Sander's head as the delusion of vague mocking becomes more prominent in in his mind. If Falcon reacted this way to his kitchen, heaven's knows how he'll take his art.
And if Falcon didn't like his art...
Cohen glowers at the other man which falls away into an expression of pain, "you don't like it, do you?"