"No, no it's fine," he reassures his twelve-year-old friend. "Usually people just stare at me as if I'm insane when I go into the Freudian zone."

Sighing, content with everything from not spilling or spraying coffee over anyone or anything to the fact that it feels so good, unbelievably good, to be sharing this moment with someone who doesn't stare at him.

"It's just...anatomy." He's still smiling, and just a tad sheepish.