Mark eyes the hand for a beat, the question seeming to erect a wall of caution within the man. But he also seems to interpret the gesture as a statement on status in the room and reaches out to clap his hand into the other's. His grip is strong but he seems eager to let go. The wheels in his head are visibly clicking.

"It must be... that I..." the words are drawn out, clearly an excuse to figure out what to place at the end of them. "Told him I wanted to meet you."

He smiles upon the pronouncement, but it looks slightly off-kilter. And the color still hasn't returned to his cheeks.