Greg feigned offense with a scoff, further emphasized by his mouthful of sandwich. "It may be a few years since I last did any thrashing, but the spirit lives on within. Somewhere, under... all this." He waved a hand over his gut. "It's just, ah, hibernating." This is the land of dad humor, Wash. No escape.

If Greg caught the momentary drift, he didn't feel the need to comment. There was a lot of reminiscing going around, it seemed, and little purpose in prying.

"Oh yeah, loads. Heck, this isn't even all of it. I think. Need to label these better. Think we got Doors, Stones, Roses..."