There's more going on here than what meets the eye— and even then, what meets the eye certainly hits Mark somewhere in the chest, tight and constricting— and he finds himself following her gesture until he's able to sit directly beside Wichita, gaze sweeping over her again, as though combing carefully enough might expose something he's missed. At a distance, he realizes that he's never been the best person for offering support. Never been the best type of friend to much of anyone, and only by the good graces of fate has he found people over the years who've been as loyal as his are. It's a fact often forgotten in the moment, when he takes people for granted, when he assumes they'll stay, even through his tirades and flights of fancy— but here, with the world calm around them and the oceans smooth ahead, he sees it in greater relief.

Decides to stay, see if he can't set things right, even if it only ends up being for a day.

"Sure," he replies belatedly, as though he hasn't already sat himself down, and glances at her from the side. "You don't look like hell, just to make that clear. But you look like you're going through it. No offense."

The statement, given as starkly as he has just now, receives a sweep of a tongue over his lips before he looks away again, and out over the water. "Something going on?"