"I think you'll tell me what you think I want to hear," he drawls, his tone amused. "I used to do that a lot when I was your age, too."

The office is only a short walk, and quite comfortable-looking: a long desk sits near the front, with a chair on either side and a tape recorder currently sitting on it with a pile of paperwork beside it, and Martin rounds the desk to pack it all up neatly, and pull out a fresh thick notepad and pen. "Some people, when they've been through a lot of difficult situations, um. Well, the happy memories can be upsetting, when they remember what they used to have. Is all."