Look at Jerry, torturously beautiful, with those siren eyes and lips to kill for, standing in front of him and talking with a commonness of an old acquaintance he randomly ran into on his way to grab some coffee. 'How are you doing, good to see you, nice weather, you’re a wolf. Oh, do you remember how I dumped you eight-something years ago, funny, isn’t it? Sorry not sorry about that by the way, come here often?'
He really is not sorry, is he?