Steve was under no false assumptions that America would be anymore welcoming of a small Irish artist than Ireland had been, but there was a faint hope. Stranger things had happened, and America was meant to be the land of dreams.
He frowned a bit at Tony's words, drawing his book back across the table and slowing closing it, cheeks a wee bit flushed. "...I wouldn't know where to start," he said, looking up, and only then did he seem to catch that glint, eyes narrowing uncertainly.