Lily had closed her eyes behind her glasses at one point, and was just taking in the breeze, the sun, and, of course, Cary's voice. "'Course it does, simply because it's easier to get socks than to go on cruises." She joked.
It wasn't like it hadn't occurred to Lily that his name reminded her of Cary Grant, as well. She didn't just emulate the style, she loved the golden era of Hollywood as much as it looked like she did. Then again, for her personal tastes, she preferred this Cary to Cary Grant. He had this boyish thing about him that she liked, she'd always liked, even if it reminded her of Drew. Apparently, she had a type, and it had nothing to do with the 1940s type of man. But that didn't matter at all, at the moment. The sun, however, did, and Lily turned as it seemed to move.
"Thrift shops are better to find the kind of thing I wear, I suppose, although there's been this huge wave of revivalism in the normal shops too. I'll sort it out when I get home. Maybe I'll go round the shops and see if there's anything there that I like. If not, I might do that." She assessed, and then turned to face Cary again. "You know," She said softly, looking at him over her glasses. "you look a bit sad, don't you?" It had been bugging her for a while until she finally had to say it. Not that she was in any place to, because though she didn't know if she looked sad or not, Lily was very much so.