He shifts, almost reclining against the pillows and settling her against him. He seems to be sifting through, selecting what he'd like to show her.
"The first time you came to my flat, how frank and bold you were about what you wanted. I remember that night extremely well." It had been funny, and almost touching in hindsight, how it was meant to just be that he appealed to her and that she'd like to shag him if he were up for it.
"I remember the day I died," he adds, after a quiet moment. "...both days, I suppose. Vividly. Firsts, often, and lasts. Those tend to linger, if they matter." And even sometimes when they don't, in the wider scheme, at least to him. He remembers Saigon falling. He remembers being in Paris for the end of the First World War. He remembers the night he met Daisy, though that seems impolitic to say.
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"The first time you came to my flat, how frank and bold you were about what you wanted. I remember that night extremely well." It had been funny, and almost touching in hindsight, how it was meant to just be that he appealed to her and that she'd like to shag him if he were up for it.
"I remember the day I died," he adds, after a quiet moment. "...both days, I suppose. Vividly. Firsts, often, and lasts. Those tend to linger, if they matter." And even sometimes when they don't, in the wider scheme, at least to him. He remembers Saigon falling. He remembers being in Paris for the end of the First World War. He remembers the night he met Daisy, though that seems impolitic to say.