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Sheehan is nervous until Max walks in. He had been tapping a pencil against the desk, forcing himself to stay still. Then Max sits and Sheehan smiles, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey. Need anything?" he wonders.

He shakes his head. He's fine. But he frowns.

What do you do up here?

He looks over and then shows him the clipboard he has. "Taking inventory right now. I'm going to start working on my next art therapy prompt soon. After this cup of coffee."

He leans up to look at the clipboard, looking over the numbers. He's interested enough he forgets and immediately one hand starts to sign.

He pauses and looks back at Sheehan.

He nods. "Go ahead. Just - go slowly."

He nods.

'Okay.'

Then-

'How do you do therapy with art? You show them pictures that make them hurt less?'

"Ah, no. I wish it was that simple. It's more - helping people express themselves through art. Learn coping skills. Find ways to work with themselves and their problems," he explains.

Yeah, that's getting a blink or two. He does not get how that works. How it could work.

'Most people can talk.'

He chuckles, excited to share. "Yes, but there is a lot more that needs to happen for someone to talk about their feelings. A lot of mental blocks."

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