George had pulled his head away from hers to look up at her and stare at her blankly as she rambled. "Wow, Li. Thank you for the absolutely uplifting pep speech. I am so very reassured," he intoned.
"Clearly looks like me," he added in a mutter, looking back down at the picture. He wondered what she was like—how she laughed. He vaguely remembered Ellen, but she'd had to have had a sense of humor, or George wouldn't have bothered hitting on her. He liked birds who laughed, and a lot, and not high nasally laughs, or awful bear laughs, but bright, cheery laughter that was genuine. That was usually what got George to walk up to a girl and hit on her.
"Shit, what if she loves pink?" he balked at the prospect.