Marc might have stashed a few bottles of sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom that he's pretty sure will put him to sleep quicker than any book Steven to push at him, but-- he doesn't tell him as much. No reason to push whatever help Steven's trying to give him by suggesting reading.

"Mm?" He stretches out on the bed with a sigh, thinking that over. "Never been much of a reader, really. Just whatever I had to read in school."

And half the time, he was too-- stressed out or depressed to actually care about more than just getting by and getting the hell out of their parents' home. "Guess there was Hebrew school too. Not that-- our Bar Mitzvah was worth all that studying and shit."

Mom had made sure of that, the way she made sure every birthday was miserable as fuck too.