A Harold, really? I don't think... I look like a Harold.

[It's not entirely without merit. War-chief. Leader of an army. She could have picked a worse wrong name, but that doesn't make it less wrong.

It's all right. He's really not worried about being recognized these days, you know.]

When you're around long enough... you pick stuff up. [He leans forward a little.] We met before. You don't remember, before you were born.

[And he shrugs, he leans back, like he didn't just say something crazy.]

I figured why let her break your heart, you know? With those baby blue eyes. Windows to the soul, they say.