The marinated octopus begs description. Opposite, beautiful Elektra smiles but offers nothing. John nods and waits for the next smile. And so it goes, nod, smile, nod, smile. Desperate to break the cycle, John searches for the scraps of Greek he remembers. Somehow though 'I have a pet cat.' hardly seems appropriate. As another love affair fades with the sunset, John silently laments his lack of foresight.