Oh, good. Jokes. Marcus gives a dutiful smile. The question disrupts it. He frowns, not necessarily upset, just — struggling to say. "He's — it depends." After a pause; he doesn't want to say it, it sounds self-aggrandising, but it's true. It's not a thing. Tim's recent forays into taking care of himself are probably seasonal, if anything.

"Better. Better recently, I think. He's doing more stuff, looking after himself more, I guess. I hope. He was getting, uh...claustrophobic." He grips the back of his own neck, bites his lip. "What Bruce said back there, about dragging him into — I don't. I don't want to. That ain't how it is."