Sam shrugged. He hadn't heard enough dialogue yet for him to be able to judge the quality of accents. He'd keep his ears open, though different Irish accents certainly weren't his specialty. As for the girls . . . Well, yeah, he'd noticed some slight looks or giggles from some of the female customers at the shop, or even just around town. He'd known of the mythic allure, of course. All British blokes did, most of them hoping to holiday in the states for that reason alone. But Sam didn't have the same motives as those blokes, so he shook his head with a small grin.
Still, Jesse needn't know that. So he flashed a broader smirk. "You've no idea, mate. All I have to do is trot out a few decidedly British words, and I'm practically invited into their knickers." Not true, of course, and he reckoned Jesse would know that. But it was just the daft talk of young men, and no harm in it.
Sam quite liked the one Jackie Chan film. With the black comedian bloke. He found it quite entertaining. Though as with all films, each sequel was less and less so. He hadn't even bothered seeing the third. But Jesse was pushing play once more, and he didn't fancy get struck again, so he kept quiet and watched the film, laughing at some of the funnier bits, and wincing at some of the violence. The part with the toilet made him do both.