"And what's going on in your pretty little head?" His expression was concerned over how quiet you'd been for the past thirty minutes.

You came back from an interview, and you'd been quiet since, and Elvis could see through you with an ease he'd formed since you'd started dating.

A plume of smoke followed the movement of his cigarette being lowered. "Those reporters, ain't it?" Many news outlets made him out as a bad person was due to your age gap. "C'mere,” his hands open up. "Y’know I don' bite."