He took it as a compliment and grinned despite himself, sitting back down on the bed. For all the suffering in his life, for all the pain, Katurian always had his writing. It kept him afloat - soaring, even - and for someone to take in that part of him... well, it made him feel like he was sharing the best part of himself. In many ways, he was.

"I have more," he said. "Not with me, but I've written more before. Those are just all the ones I had memorized."

Further explanation was needed, maybe. Why he needed to write them from memory. Why it mattered. But he didn't want to get into that right now, and so he sat on his hands and leaned forward to peer at Andy, watching his expression. Lethargy aside, he was like a little kid showing off his refrigerator artwork.