“Write something nice in my obituary while you’re at, will you?” “He had a lovely accent, terrible manners, and was always full of himself,” I recited. “You think I have a lovely accent?” he asked, only a small curve to the corner of his lips. “Don’t be fooled, everyone around here has a nice accent.” “Well, I think you have a lovely accent too,” he commented, his eyes bright. Whimsical and boyish.
