Drake doesn't ask what happened to Sam's wife. Doesn't ask how they met or what else the other man liked about her... it seems like the sort of thing he should let someone bring up on their own if they want to. That poking around with questions blindly could lead to hitting somewhere painful. But he does ask something.
"You remember any of those questions?" he asks curiously, spearing a carrot.
"Yeah, uh. If you could be famous, would you? And for what?" He sticks a few potatoes and carrots with his fork. "I said no. I was already famous. I didn't want to be famous anymore."
"Ugh, no." Drake shakes his head, sounding very certain. "I wouldn't want to be in the first place. My whole deal has always been about not being noticed."
"See -- " Sam gestures with his fork. "You get me. I don't want to be noticed. I just want to do my job and go home at the end of the day. Sit under a tree, build a fire, play my harmonica.
Drake nods along in agreement until that last item on the list, at which he tilts his head curiously.
"You play the harmonica?" Has he ever seen anybody play a harmonica? Not in real life, he's pretty sure... he probably knows what one sounds like? Maybe. "That's unique enough I have to ask how you picked it up."
"It was a gift, actually. I finished a tough delivery for this guy, a musician. He thanked me by giving me a harmonica. I'm still learning it, but... it's cool. It gives me something to do."
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"You remember any of those questions?" he asks curiously, spearing a carrot.
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I'm an easy guy to keep happy."
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"You play the harmonica?" Has he ever seen anybody play a harmonica? Not in real life, he's pretty sure... he probably knows what one sounds like? Maybe. "That's unique enough I have to ask how you picked it up."
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