Scarborough Fair. Simon & Garfunkel. There's something fond in Jeff's smile, just for a moment, a flicker of something human behind the strange predator.

"Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme..." he says in a musing, sing-song voice. His parents had the record. He... thinks they did, anyway. He thinks he used to follow the tunes to his mom's studio and hang with her while she painted something new and mystical.

Did that ever happen? Or was it Ally's parents who liked Simon & Garfunkel? Maybe he's just remembering some wholesome TV family, his fevered brain latching onto a fictional piece of trivia and adding it to his patchwork autobiography. Did the Brady Bunch ever listen to Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme?

"I know it," he admits, his fingers idly strumming something that sounds... similar, ish, to the song, but isn't. "But I don't know know it, you know?"

Not well enough to perform, anyway. But he can play some approximation, all nonsense words and vaguely familiar melodies. That slightly manic, slightly vicious playfulness returns, and he fixes Jon with a long stare.

"Just like I know you, but I don't know know you. You know?"