Tristan seemed hesitant to do as much, understandably, because he didn't know how much he trusted Dennis. Dennis.
He looked at his camera (it was precious to him, no matter how old and crappy it was) and then offered it to the other man, handling it as though it were made of glass. It may well have been.
"I got it about four years ago," he started. "I was only taking pictures at school then. But I enjoyed it. I sold a few of them then-" he fell quiet, realising that Dennis might not actually care.