Re: [Evans & Peel: Jack & Holly]
Jack didn't know who Harry James and Helen Forrest were. He didn't know a damn thing about music, except that the track was period-appropriate and Evans & Peel played music that ranged from the thirties to the sixties, but not beyond. Which wasn't really the point, the point was the boy who reeled across the floor pointing at the ceiling as if an omniscient god who knew who James and Forrest were resided there.
"1943," Jack remarked, "I didn't know that. But I had someone pick out a job lot of music from the store so I'm afraid I'm utterly pig-ignorant about it all." The boy sat down, which was a relief, given he looked like at any moment his knees might give out under him or go watery enough to send him spilling to the floor. And he'd rather expected a non-drinker not to know the common phrase, but Holly volunteered it.
"Grape is certainly wine, and do I ask why you want to get utterly wasted later?" Jack looked at the bartender, and tapped his own glass. "One for my companion here." It was old, utterly indulgent and expensive. "Drink this slowly. It'll get you where you want to go, don't worry, but if you try to bolt it you won't appreciate it, and it's extremely expensive."
He followed Holly's gaze readily around the bar. "I like it," he said, in response to the compliment, "Thank you. And yes, I do." Amused. As for how he'd identified Holly as a man, rather than a woman, Jack raised both eyebrows. "Well, I didn't. Not until you turned up. You introduced yourself," he gestured at the bartender. In actual fact, Jack had deduced his guest was likely male from the throwaway remark about vices including porn. It was perhaps a horrific assumption, but Jack counted very few female acquaintances who'd readily admit that was a vice.