Joaquin found himself worrying that his own apartment was too messy as he glanced around at Adam's neat (but not uncomfortably tidy) apartment, trying to distract himself from his real worry: what was wrong with him? He was fairly sure now that he'd need to see a doctor, which was a lot more money than he cared to spend at the moment, and the idea of having something that maybe wasn't an easy fix was even more concerning. If he didn't have his hands, what did he have? Certainly not a very long painting career, and thinking about it made his heart pound.
"Yeah. I guess that's um, a long time, isn't it?" Frowning, Joaquin flexed his fingers, then glanced up at Adam to try and gauge his reaction. To say he felt foolish for not doing something sooner was an understatement- now that he thought about it, it had been quite a while since this started. Maybe he'd make an appointment soon. Tomorrow... Maybe the day after that. "No, not that I can think of. I've uh, pretty much been living off the same dull stuff for a while now." He smiled gently, but it faded fast as Adam's thumb pressed against his skin. "No- not really. It feels more like... Well, fire. It's so weird."