They aren't precisely the same situations, the ones that Wichita and Mark are facing right now. Not precisely. But that doesn't stop Mark from letting his gaze linger, on the fact that she's out here not thanks to the nerves, not thanks to the frustration of how limited this island is, but instead in want of a person. Breaking eye contact, he thinks of his own family, the family that he manages to be far closer to than most people would expect. With a small breath, carefully masked, he tilts his head and continues to watch her, again. There's very little that's in his power on the island; returning home isn't one of them, nor getting other people there. Even trying to predict departure dates leaves him with ranges so varied than he can't even manage to get an estimate accurate to a month, let alone a day.

But he can, at least, listen. Reason. Things that don't require far too much sentiment, as it were.

"I don't know if it's good to pin all of your hopes on... a single person," Mark admits, his gaze wandering from side to side. "I mean, tempting. Definitely tempting. But I mean, even you can see how futile it is. Most of us aren't made to live so close to people without liking someone along the way, I guess."

He pauses, then adds, more quietly. "But I'm sorry. I bet you miss her."