By the inch by inch increase in her smile, Jessica certainly didn't hold his choice of literature against him- quite the opposite. She'd been brought up to believe those very rebels of society were damned by the Devil- or at least, influenced by him- and never to be listened to; of course, that's the main reason why she dove head first into the few books by them she could find after being Turned. The problem was her inability to really understand them- not the way she felt they should be, and appreciated. She'd done a lot of growing up since being that sheltered seventeen year old virgin with the Bible beaten into her, but old conditioning died hard.
And she was still relatively young.
"Not havin' a boot chucked at you's probably a good sign," she agreed with a chuckle in her own voice, now much more locked in on his face and the trill of his fingers on the strings. The guitar hummed it's readiness, like a choir finding their pitch. He was right: she was curious- and visibly interested.
"Doesn't hafta be somethin' I know," she encouraged. "Let's hear it."