For half a second, he swears the words mean something.

The charcoal stutters in his fingers, leaves a black ugly mark across the dress. It sets his brow furrowing before he crumples the paper. Just a little violent, just a little of his old frenetic energy; mostly just a bland haze.

"'s weird." The charcoal is less certain on the page as he starts again. "Everyone's good at deals."