"I'm sure it's not," Elvis says, head turning back even as he swings forward. There's probably some metaphor to be found in that, but he's better at them when they involve words on a page and characters of his own creation, people whose lives he manufactures and maneuvers the way he's never been able to with himself. Applying it to real life, at least when doing something other than observing, seems somehow crude. This is hardly the time for it, anyway, when he feels lighter, less burdened, than he's grown so accustomed to. "I just can't remember back that far. An' we can switch at some point, whenever you want."