In honor of Edie's personal idol, Elvis, there is a theme for the bartending tonight. The jutebox is playing nothing but Elvis, and Edie is wearing a stylish take on Elvis's Jailhouse Rock get-up. She's grinning from ear to ear; celebrating a very important birthday.
Hell, it should be a national holiday...hey, wait a minute...isn't she married to
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"When today rolls around back home again," he grins, and takes a drag on his cigarette, "we will. It'll be great."
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Understatement.
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Hot Elvis-on-Elvis action, at the bar.
Well, kissing, anyway.
"So do you. Though if Elvis had looked like that, back in the day, I'd have been a very confused young boy..."
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Like this kiss. Exactly what she wanted.
"Wouldn't have been quite the same with boobs, would he?"
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Sam is feeling quite himself again, thank you. And even if he weren't, the fact that the people whose memories that flu thing made him borrow could answer that question wouldn't necessarily have made a difference.
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Who doesn't know Elvis?
"The King of Rock and Roll," she answers, grinning. "You're listening to his music over there."
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"...Not bad," he allows, after listening for a few moments. And he means it; it's not bad, especially in comparison to the minstrels' tendency toward free verse.
"But what do rocks have to do with it? Or rolling, for that matter."
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