On some level, Mark finds all of this very sexy. Mark clears his throat, not sure how to interpret Trey's latest masterpiece. After a few more seconds, he turns and looks up at Mark with this weird artist stare. Mark smiles back in a relieved sort of way. Trey watches him.
Seconds tick by.
That's Trey's preoccupied voice as his eyes skip back to the linoleum. His fingers are moving again, intent. Mark silently watches the white pieces of tape align themselves into approximations of murder sites, outlines of people with arms and legs akimbo. Mark knits his eyebrows and focuses. An hour later Mark is lying face down on a four by six piece of linoleum.