They're aimed in the vague direction of the lake, ignoring any obvious pathways in favor of meandering through the grass. There's no real destination in mind, it's just a path that's familiar enough to his feet that it doesn't require navigation.

"That was a recitation of facts," he teases. "Each of them has a story. Like your grandmother founding the place you grew up, or why you decided to become an art student when producing art on a deadline seems like a path of great suffering. There's generations of tales hiding beneath the words weird family."