"I thought your sketches were really good... But damn. These are amazing."
Jack sat himself in his twisty desk chair and span himself around. "Mhmm..."
Mark hung a canvas art of a sunrise back on the wall. "Why're you so quiet all the sudden? That's not like you." Jack shrugged.
"C'mon," Mark sat down cross legged on his bed, "tell me, my lil Irish prick." Jack smiled slightly, then sighed. "You think I'm weird now, don't you?"
Mark blinked. He didn't seem phased. "What do ya mean?"
"Everything I've done to you, then all of the sudden I'm drawing you and your tattoo from memory? That's awfully creepy to me."
Jack pulled his journal out and threw it (quite literally) to him. The raven haired boy silently read through it with a blank face. Thus worrying Jack.
Mark smiled warmly. "Nah."
"Really?"
"Well, of course! Creepy would be someone taking pictures of me, even in my house, and hanging them up. You're little acts are cute."
Jack jumped and tensed, red flushing on his face. "I am not cute!" Mark nodded, "if that makes you feel better."
"Maybe it does, but..."
"You, Mark Fischbach, think I'm cute?"