People grow on me, almost invariably; my first impression is negative, you're too loud, you're too pretty, you walk like you left the hanger in, you're a HIPSTER, you probably talk about Japan a lot, you should stop being such a fucking weirdo. Give it time, stew with me a little, send me a Christmas card, use the word impresario when I'm not expecting it, grow on me, let me grow on you, don't give it up for free right away, don't think about it, don't force it, if you don't have the time then I don't want your condensed soup just let's pick it up later ok?

Talk to me about the right book when I thought all you knew was parasites and pipettes and you'll grow on me a little faster, but you don't know what the right book is, and you could have picked any one of those books, but you picked that one, so well done you.

When you know someone's read a book you know 300-700 pages of what is in their head. You know that no matter what they think of Larry, they've spent time with him, they know him like you do, or as well as you do in their own way, you have a Mutual Friend. You may be on opposite sides of the office and your lives may be heading in opposite directions but you've both spent a week in 1944 and you care to reminisce.

Surprise me won't you?