"Maybe so," said Martha, with a raised brow and a smirk to indicate that she recognised the reaction and was giving him some gentle grief over it, "or maybe music in my day's utter rubbish, so I'm easily impressed? Take your pick."

She stretched out her legs in front of her and considered her toes along with Larry's question, the capri pants she'd bought in the shop just right for the late summer evening temperature. Not too hot for a Londoner's taste, like the hotel had been for most of August, but not cool out yet.

Looking up, Martha clearly came to a conclusion regarding the level of truth and exposure she was interested in, and said, "I'm getting by. Feeling unsettled, to be honest, but that's how things have been for me for..."

It was always confusing, trying to figure out how long things had actually been. "For a year or two, now. Like there's something I should be doing but I can't figure out what it is. And you?"