Elvis raises his eyebrows, unseen with his head turned briefly out in front of him, rather than over his shoulder at her. It shouldn't be possible, he wants to say, but he knows that isn't true, which makes it seem that much worse. A lot of things that seem impossible aren't, and people can be terrible when given half the chance. He's seen too much cruelty to ever ignore that. Here with Effy, however well-intentioned, he can't see the sense in that at all. Maybe forgetting would be easier, but life's a bitch, and forgetting doesn't change the past. He can barely recall most of his childhood, but at least he knows that it happened. That, once upon a time, everything wasn't so goddamn miserable, even if knowing that he was happy once almost makes all the rest of it seem that much worse.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he says, quiet as opposed to heated, though he can't help the surge of anger he feels at the thought of it. He has no right to be protective of Effy and he knows it, but it's like when people would make fun of his father when they were out; the notion of someone fucking with her isn't one he can stomach easily. "How'd you get it all back?"