Louis favors him with a chuckle to make up for the medium, the fact that a grin would go unseen.

It fades, remembering. The hot burn of embarrassment, and worse, the blank sense of confusion, of something misplaced and Armand's serenity in the face of it. A few photos flutter into the appropriate box, released from Louis' scrutiny.

"Some," he admits. "Some I purchased from other photographers or collectors over the years."

A tap of fingers on the table, a breath exhaled.

"I had them sorted, at one point."