Oh yeah? [ He asked, honestly curious. The guy wrote books? When the fuck had he written some fucking books? He honestly looked a little surprised, probably too surprised, but he played it off with a gentle, knowing smile. ]

Hell, half of us have pen names these days. I'm an author as well. Who knows, maybe you'll end up like Mark Twain or George Orwell. [ He awkwardly clasped a hand over his shoulder, offering his support. ]

Believe me, I know what you mean. It's an unfortunate side-effect of getting old.

[ Again, he played it off. He really did know what he meant. Hell, he recognized all to well Nelson's situation. He could feel a reflection between how he was feeling, and what his life had become. He couldn't sympathize too much though.

He wasn't an import. ]