“I’m the same.” He touches his chest. “I still love my face plastered to Celebrity Crush. I’m a headline whore, and I tear up far too easily. I’m practically a waterfall.” His brand of sarcasm is 100% the Moffy I know, and I try to smile. “Ask Farrow, I’ve drowned him a billion times.” Quickly, he adds, “Metaphorically.” I try to ease. “Still speed on freeways?” “All the damn time.” He’s rigid though.
