[ She sits with one arm propped up on the bar counter, her face resting in her hand and her head tilted towards him as she listens, that look of amusement still lingering in the shape of her mouth and her eyes. ]

Nothing wrong with knowing what you like. [ Mild agreement, then wryly: ] It’s just hard to have favorites at my age. I’m old as dirt. I’ve tried a lot of different shit. How the fuck would I ever choose?