Martha'd gone for a walk after she had something to eat, but hadn't quite expected to run into anyone else, and certainly not anyone playing a guitar. The song was familiar, through vague wisps of childhood memory from her parents' divorce crossed with a country-style track that had been popular on Radio One for a bit when she was in secondary school; enough that she could follow where the melody was going, if not the words, and even if she wasn't used to a male voice singing it.

It took her a moment to realise it was Larry singing, and she blinked, wasn't sure if she should interrupt--something in the tone of his voice told her to wait. So she did, half-perched on a nearby wall. "You're really quite good, Mr Underwood," she said, with a faint smile, the kind that said you can tell me to get lost.

((the player would like to note hir favourite version is this one.))