He's grateful for the breeze; dressed down in jeans and a checkered flannel shirt, one that's worn thin by years of wear and washings, a gray Florida Gators T-shirt underneath, he'd be sweating without the cooler air.

Adjusting his omnipresent Stetson, he chuckles.

"Oh, I doubt it'll ever catch up."

He glances at Reese.

"I'm just waitin' to hear 'quaint' roll off your tongue."