"Hlese. Yur joking," he accused, speech muddled by lack of a lower lip, though he kissed her all the same, eventually winning it back since his purpose had shifted from slandering one of the lesser Beatles, if not the definitive least. It would take a considerable amount of searching through the dark to find whatever record she was after, and more searching through his trunk to recover his old phonograph that could play it without electricity. "Why can't we just call it Bump?" he asked, his arms wrapping around her and proceeding to massage the small of her back with his fingertips. "Let it come out, see what it's like, and name it then?"