20359/Music and Money

Music and Money
Date of Scene:	02 April 2025
Location:	Monkey Heaven Records
Synopsis:	It is normal for sale's clerks to be contemplating murder, perhaps more-so when their jobs are being threatened!
Cast of Characters:	Christian Frost, Kim Hayes

---

Christian Frost has posed:
Monkey Heaven Records' bell is a cheerful ding-a-ling that heralds the entrance of one Christian Frost. He's dressed to the nines in white lined with black, somehow pulling off the clash. Sunglasses will not be removed, but that purse is surely name-brand, though it lacks the garish logo or words branding visibly.A smile brightens the man's expression.

How cute!

Very cute place! Vinyl are so under-appreciated these days-oh there's an eclectic piano there, backed up against the boxes of vinyls. It's a small shop, so as a wave is thrown toward the desk with barely more than a glance at whoever is working it, if there is anyone there at all, Christian turns to walk towards the keyboard.

"Good afternoon! Looking for Mr. Klein-I believe he is expecting me." Words are thrown toward the front, but attention is fully locked on the instrument, a brief disappointment that it's not turned on will be rectified by finding the switch himself and rapidly scanning through settings. The organ, strings, chirp of clarinet-there grand piano sound. Immediately a run is played, bright, cheerful and dancey: Ragtime!

-Nah he flips the piano's settings back to the eclectic piano and runs through a jazz minor scale. This transitions into an equally bright reel, improvising a jazz feel. Very nice-Sound turned down so he can still be heard speaking without effort.

Still not looking up, Christian's words continue, over the piano, "If he's not expecting me, I can wait until he is free. If you don't mind telling him Christian Price is here, I'd appreciate it."

Christian doesn't actually know if Franz Klein is here or expecting him and he is not currently capable of checking. While Christian's siblings might use the family's unfortunate knack for reading the minds of others to ensure that they are never on the back-foot in business or work or life or whatever it is they do-This is not something Christian leans on. It's not something he could lean on even if he wasn't high, ability and skill are two separate things. It's an inconvenient distraction, not useful and the line of snow that was done on the way over here will surely hold him over for now. He's trying to ease off usage, so he knows what he took will not last him long, but small steps are still progress. Enjoy the silence and the drugs while they last.

It's possible a practiced eye sees exactly how strung up this man is-despite the coordination at the piano, everything is a beat too fast, a slight sway to the trenchcoat and stance, jerk to his motions, attention fully locked on the piano, frame slightly too angular and thin, words not even an afterthought, just a very practiced script. Perhaps what they say of business is true: coke when the sun is up and heroin at night?

Christian clearly doesn't expect this to be difficult nor take long. Electric Piano is a Bonus!

Kim Hayes has posed:
    As he steps through the front door to Monkey Heaven Records, Christian is treated to the same level of professionalism and hospitality as any other member of the consuming public would be given by the shop clerk on duty.

    Which is to say that Kim doesn't look up from her computer screen or bother to remove her earbuds. She's sat behind the desk, leaning back in her chair, vacantly staring at the video playing on the computer. Whatever she's watching happens to be getting to a rather noisy part as Christian is speaking.

    Maybe it's baby videos?

    << Haze: Hayes! We have a problem. >>

    << Kim: We literally just ate a pack of Reese's, dude. >>

    << Haze: Not that problem. It is your quarry from the Coffeee of DOOM. >>

    It only takes a moment from there for Kim to recognize the issue, and she quickly pulls her earbuds out and stops the video.

    "Fffffuuu...."

    She half-swears under her breath as she catches the name 'Christian Price' being spoken and recognizes the voice of the business guy from the cafe. With a flash of brilliant inspiration, she slides out of the chair and ducks down behind the desk on her hands and knees, pretending she's looking for something but really just trying to hide. "Umm, yeah, no, sorry, dude. Franz is out till like, just past closing time or something. You wanna tell me what it's about? I can, umm, find out where he is so you can go meet him."

    << Haze: Was this outcome not one to be predicted? >>

    << Kim: Okay, so him coming here is something I totally should have planned for, but I kinda lost track of things after you decided to almost kill me by drinking ten gallons of green shit, dude. >>

    << Haze: You consume strange chemicals and become forgetful on a regular basis, Hayes. >>

    << Kim: Yeah, but can't it not be my fault for once? >>

    On the bright side, Kim manages to find an unopened Halloween-sized Snickers bar where it fell under the counter probably at least three months ago.

    << Haze: Mmm. Shall we eat it? >>

    << Kim: No way, dude. That's gross. ...Maybe if it was a Butterfinger... >>

Christian Frost has posed:
Jazz improvisation continues, a cheerful thing that will stop on a dime at Kim's words. Klein isn't here? That's damn inconvenient. Christian actually looks around for the first time. Only to not be able to spot the speaker.

Huh. That's odd. Another scale on the piano will fill the silence, Christian looking around again and again not seeing someone will-with a huge amount of regret-step away from the keyboard and toward the front desk.

He Is Pretty Sure he saw someone sitting there? Maybe not, but he's not on a hallucigen right now and cocaine is very reliable in preventing him from manifesting mental monsters. Not that mental monsters generally sound so reasonable or care about his 'work'. He's pretty sure this is real and not his fault! But-

Where'd she go?

Finally reaching the desk, Christian peers into the back, still sees no one. Computer on, voice from no-where, definitely someone here and-wait-that's a person down there. Christian will lean further over the desk, very slowly lowering his sunglasses on his nose and peering over them.

Yeah, that's a person.

He doesn't speak, just stares for a moment. What is she doing? This is-

This is the funniest thing Christian has ever seen in his life!

The laughter is immediate, Christian straightening and leaning against the counter shaking with glee, words broken between laughing, "Honey-I dunno what you're up to, but-HA-with a sweater that big, you look like a little turtle-And this is Monkey Heaven Records-More like Tiny Turtle-HA! What's going on? What did you say?"

Kim Hayes has posed:
    When the music stops playing, suggesting that Christian is on the move, Kim goes very still. If she doesn't move, he can't see her, right? Maybe he'll just leave if she stays there for long enough and pretends he doesn't exist.

    << Haze: You do realise that we could make you disappear completely, don't you-- >>

    Haze's sage reminder of Klyntar chameleonic capabilities is cut short by Christian's sudden burst of laughter. Grimacing hard, Kim shuffles backward on her hands and knees, hits her head on the bottom of the desk anyway as she misjudges, and finally rises up to her full (still not that impressive) height, wincing as she rubs her head in a way that uses a fair bit more of her sleeve than is strictly necessary in an attempt to delay showing her face.

    "Yeah, uhh, sorry," she starts to apologise.

    << Haze: He is mocking you, isn't he? You know, we could always just -- >>

    "Dropped my candy bar," Kim says, holding up the fun-sized Snickers. She unwraps it with a quick twist and pops it into her mouth, silencing the voice in her head with the offering. "I guess that's why they call it a Snickers," she says as she notes Christian's obvious amusement. "Welcome to Tiny Turtle Records. What was it you wanted to talk to Franz about?"

    In the absence of being able to disguise or hide herself any further (barring severe intervention by her symbiote), Kim finally decides to...

    << Kim: Play it cool. >>

    << Haze: Ah, clever. Behave in the opposite manner to last time so he doesn't recognise you. >>

    << Kim: Shut up and eat your gross chocolate, bitch. >>

    "Like I was saying, I can get in touch with him if you want," the brunette offers, gesturing vaguely. She's totally nailing the chill vibe now.

    Of course, she's also wearing the exact same hoodie as before, so recognition probably isn't actually that hard.

Christian Frost has posed:
Laughter will trickle off into giggles, then chuckles and finally simply a massive grin as Christian continues to lean on the counter, sunglasses pushed back on and beam at Kim. "Can't be losing candy, I understand, important work!"

Wow, she really does look familiar? Something-huh, it's the sweater and the nerves. Christian might not take much note of faces, but he does care quite a lot about clothing.

Notable sweater, where has he seen that before? Hmmmmm-

"Klein has a right to fully understand and discuss all contracts before he signs them. I'm not a lawyer, but he doesn't seem to have one, so I'm here to ensure he understands the position he-or really-this store is in." Rather nice for Christian that Klein might not be able to afford a lawyer in that he doesn't have to worry as much about negotiations, but not so nice that it means he's having to do a lot more legwork himself dealing directly with owner rather than simply dealing with an opposing party's lawyer who knows how to play the game. Klein might know a jackass contract and deal, but that's different from knowing exactly how to defend or argue against it.

Bit of a pain for Christian really. And Christian's latest clients are getting what they paid for, but it doesn't mean Christian appreciates having to do this level of legwork and the unseemly work with the small business owner. As much as Christian would like this deal to be over, showing up in person does generally get people to stop dragging their feet. Mostly because it allows Christian to say things that he would not say over email or phone.

Then again, maybe Franz Klein's dragging of feet is buying time to lawyer up? That would also be inconvenient for Christian, but at least he'd be able to deal with someone who talks the talk.

Jeez, where does he know that sweatshirt from? Right at the edge of memory-something. . . .

"You want to pass a message on to him? Sure, sure, Awwww-"

So much better to threaten people when they are in front of you rather than through a mouthpiece. Christian looks up at the ceiling, fingers drumming on the countertop.

"Tell Mr. Klein that-Hmmmm, tell him that the IRS generally understands old book shops, antique shops, record stores and the like as less of 'businesses' and more of tax-deductible locations where the owner can store their personal collections." The words are stated simply and punctuated with a nod, Christian's attention already wandering away and over the labels closest to the counter, "If they're not good at book-keeping or aren't occasionally in the green-well, it would be a shame if IRS had some reason to put a lien or look into the books of fine business like this and he really should talk to me about the offers that have been sent to him."

Threats of financial violence if a business owner is unwilling to come to the table is easier when someone doesn't have a lawyer.

Christian steps away from the counter and is about to retreat back to the keyboard when things finally click- turning back to Kim with a massive grin, "Coffee Shop! You're the pregnant lady from the coffee shop! Lotta thoughts in that head! I remember! What a funny coincidence!"

Kim Hayes has posed:
    Kim lets her hands retreat into the sleeves of her hoodie and rests her own elbows and forearms against the desk, somewhat mirroring Christian's posture. She props her chin up with her wool-wrapped knuckles as she focuses on Christian and his words. She quirks her lips a little when he mentions the position the store is in.

    << Kim: Is it really that bad? I thought Franz was doing okay. >>

    << Haze: Are you asking us? >>

    << Kim: No, dude. Duh. >>

    She straightens up a little, rolling her shoulder blades as Christian starts giving his message. Kim's not a business guru by any means, and barely even knows how to file her own taxes, but she starts to follow the gist of his meaning. At least, she thinks she does.

    << Kim: They're gonna put the feds on Franz if he doesn't sell to them? What a dick move. >>

    << Haze: Agreed. Shall we eat them? >>

    << Kim: You know, normally I'd say no, but in this case, I'm starting to think about it-- >>

    That line of thinking is cut shorts suddenly when Christian turns and grins at her.

    'Coffee Shop!'

    In that moment, Kim suddenly feels like an empress who's just realised what her new clothes are made of. Exposed.

    << Kim: Oh, shit. He knows me. >>

    'You're the pregnant lady from the coffee shop!'

    Kim's jaw drops.

    "Dude, what?! I'm not pregnant!"

    << Kim: Am I? >>

    << Haze: Definitely not. >>

    "Definitely not!"

    << Kim: Wait, how do you know? >>

    << Haze: We would know if we were sharing chocolate with a third. >>

    << Kim: As mental pictures go, that's kind of equal parts horrifying and cute. >>

    The brunette's expression scrunches up even further with confusion as she registers something else that he's said.

    << Kim: 'Lotta thoughts in that head?' >>

    << Haze: Few worth paying heed to, if we may say so. >>

    << Kim: Is he hearing us? >>

    << Haze: Another argument in favour of eating him. >>

    Kim rubs her face with her sleeves briefly to clear her head before fluttering her eyelashes a couple of times. "But, yeah, uhh, I think we did see each other at the coffee shop," she says, interlacing her fingers between her sleeves. "You were the guy with all the pills. There was that other guy, too. I had no idea you were interested in Monkey Heaven."

    Sometimes lying outright is the most straightforward solution.

    "What'd you mean about a 'lotta thoughts?' Are you like, telepathic or something?" Kim kind of laughs, rolls her eyes and smiles as if that were a ridiculous notion.

Christian Frost has posed:
"You're not? My mistake?" Huh, that's weird, but memory is fallible and admittedly Christian was not as focused on other people's conversations in coffee shops. It's the sweater. But Christian is Sure this is the same lady. Same sweater! Lots of thoughts in that head, sweater, and the fact that he'd started to hear things from her while popping pills! Not everything is as effective as snow at keeping voices at bay, but he wouldn't have been working somewhere in public if he was worried about that little distraction. But that sweater.

It's mostly the sweater. Though it is Hard to forget when one's main coping strategy starts to fail in public!

Why was that? Christian nods as she talks, clearly she remembers him too! Jeez she's nervous, could use some chill in this lady.

"That's right, that's me! I'm not interested in this record store, I am simply a third party helping arrange things. I-awe-Represent interests in the store, but I actually think this is a very cute place! And if Mr. Klein ever returned my messages, I'm sure he's a very nice guy!" This comes with another nod and grin, chuckling at her question. A chuckle that turns into another short laugh, the faintest edges to the tone now. That's ridiculous, right? But, Christian will lean back, arms up in a full shrug and a 'what can you' sort of expression.

"Yeah. No-I mean, Yeah mutant. I can hear thoughts but not right now. I'm very, very high right now and will probably crash in-" No shame here, no indication of worry, Christian simply glances at his silver Rolex, wow time really does fly! When did that happen, "Well, I'll crash soonish-Tolerance is a bitch!"

Another laugh, living the best life here! Christian's words smooth as butter, easy and relaxed, "But normally no one can keep their thoughts to themselves so I recreationally keep them out. You though-"

The smile is back, Christian pointing at Kim as he returns to his place at the counter, leaning forward with a cat-like curiosity, "You are so stuffed full of thoughts, I was getting stuff despite the pills. I've not had that happen before! Impressive really, you a genius? I could have sworn it was like you're doubly loud than anyone else in the shop. Good thing I'm on the good stuff right now, huh?"

Kim Hayes has posed:
    A few words spoken - or not spoken - out of context can, it seems, wreak gentle havoc on people's conceptions of each other. Kim had meant to tell the waiter she was 'expecting a friend' to explain her inadvertent reference to her secret shareholder, but had trailed off mid-lie.

    "Oh, okay. So you're just the 'messenger,'" Kim clarifies with air quotes before dropping her arms back to her sides. "Yeah, Franz is a really cool guy, and this is a really cute store. I really like working here," she says, giving her best tight-lipped junkie smile. She's thinking of how best to try and twist things to a favourable outcome for her vis-a-vis the shop when Christian drops his two bombs on her.

    A telepath. Boom.

    A fellow drug addict. Boom.

    << Haze: So, he can hear us. >>

    << Kim: Shit. >>

    << Haze: And he also likes drugs. >>

    << Kim: Different drugs. >>

    << Haze: There are more drugs? >>

    Kim rests her hands on the counter, hooking her chair and pulling it up so that she can sit as she keeps her eyes fixed on Christian's, as if she might be able to read his thoughts back if she stares hard enough.

    Fortunately, she doesn't need to, as he seems quite happy to share them openly.

    "Look, would my dumb ass be working retail if I were a genius?" Kim asks. Apparently, she's not even smart enough to let Christian think she's a genius. Then again, she might be harder on herself than necessary. "Let's just say that I have a vibrant inner dialogue." There's no need to admit to harboring a brain-hungry space monster just yet.

    She shrugs her shoulders lightly before tilting her chin at the keyboard that Christian was playing before. "You're pretty good. Ever play in a band? Franz is the one who insists on us keeping that thing around. Thinks it sparks the creative vibes in the place."

    She adds, with a questioning look, "So, what're these guys you're working for wanting to do with the place? Angel investors? Buy it up and keep selling music? Turn it into a Starbucks?"

Christian Frost has posed:
"Less a messenger and more of-businesses bring me their problems and I make them go away. My current clients are asking a lot more of me than I like, but-" Another shrug and Christian hums lightly, "It'll be over soon."

Christian checks his watch again. Time. Gumming generally takes longer to hit and longer to fade and he knows he checked the time then. But how long was the walk over here? Christian doesn't remember and doesn't care.

Feeling good still.

That faint prickle of anxiety is still kept at bay, even knowing a crash is around the metaphorical corner.

"I don't judge, beyond your fashion sense anyway-maybe switch up sweaters every now and then? I don't know what geniuses are up to-" Christian leans forward again, content to let the stare-off continue, grin, then break eye contact-sunglasses back on and turning to a row of vinyls next to the counter. Flicking through them without really looking at the titles, mouth happy to run off and chatter, "Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever very vibrant, sounds like someone I should keep away from while sober, honestly. No offense, of course, mild offense about the clothing-but you can't help it, I'm sure. Retail job and all-Hey wanna go shopping? You're fun and have the facial structure to really look good in some brighter colors. I'd love to dress you! If the boss isn't in, I can't do my job if he's not here-"

Kim bringing the instrument up again is enough for the counter to finally be abandoned and Christian is back over at the keyboard, immediately starting to play again-Bubblegum pop! Woot! "Band? Kill me! Goodness no, just an appreciation for the arts-Mr. Klein has good taste!"

His full attention seems to have switched away from the conversation. Fingers switching back to jazz for barely a few bars, then dropping into classical. Christian is ultimately best at classical, it's the thing his social class expects him to be able to play very well. And he generally does. Flight of the bumblebee while on a stimulant? He starts, fingers stumble. Starts again. Gets through the opening run and continues.

Christian wants a piano so badly it hurts.

Thus, it seems to take a minute for Kim's last question to fully penetrate wherever Christian's mind has gone. When it does, he doesn't look up, but the laughter is bright, "Angel Investor? Please-They are setting up to make a big splash when going public next month-Requires boosting some numbers if they want their IPO to be impressive."

"If he sells, the store will likely be immediately converted to a chain to boost numbers."

Kim Hayes has posed:
    << Haze: He keeps criticizing our appearance. Are we not impressive to your kind in this form? >>

    << Kim: Look dude, I just really like this sweater. It's like getting hugged by one of my favourite bands. >>

    Kim has definitely run into people who talk like Christian is at the moment at parties before. It's usually these types - the ones that can afford the good stuff - that can also afford to help her get the stuff that's more her speed. In a way, that makes this situation similar; Christian has something that she really wants; namely, to keep her job here at Monkey Heaven, where her boss doesn't care if she vapes cannabis on her smoke breaks and she rarely has to do much actual work, and by extension continue to make rent on her underpriced but still-expensive-for-her apartment. On the other hand, it's also different.

    << Haze: Why can't you just use your usual strategy to convince him to help you? >>

    << Kim: Because he just said he'd love to dress me. If he wants to dress me that badly, he probably doesn't want to undress me. >>

    << Haze: Then we suppose you could let him dress you to ingratiate yourself. >>

    << Kim: Wouldn't that mean taking you off? >>

    << Haze: We can just imitate whatever he wants you to wear. >>

    "Nice," Kim compliments Christian's play of the tune. Even if he might've stumbled a bit, she can still appreciate the deftness it takes to play that tune at all.

    She twists her lips a little for a moment when he replies to her - she's not super business savvy. Is he saying that they'll start a chain of Monkey Heavens? No...

    "Oh, right. So Monkey Heaven would go to Monkey Heaven Heaven, huh? Bummer. Like I said, I really like it here."

    Then, after taking in a few deep breaths, she puts on a smile. "Anyway, I can't really pop out to shop right now, man. I'm on shift. But, like, we could probably hang out after I'm done, if you want. I usually close up a little early on a slow day, anyway."

    Not that she deducts that from her timesheet. Apparently Kim is also a bit of a white collar criminal.

    << Haze: So, if your plan is not to seduce him, what is our plan? Befriend him? >>

    << Kim: I guess. And if that doesn't work... >>

    << Haze: Perhaps we should not discuss further, if he can hear us. >>

    "For now, though, anything you're interested in, here? If you see anything you like, I can put it on."

Christian Frost has posed:
"Monkey Heaven Heaven. Rest in peace." Christian hums an affirmative, he's lost his place a few times and repeated a few reels, but honestly, just playing is nice. This would be easier with sheet music, he doesn't remember all of Flight and repetitive runs with slight variations are hard to keep track of.

"Some unsolicited advice for you then: don't be putting in job applications to Astral Antiques or Second Chance Collectables either-Both have already signed off with me. Mr. Klein is holding out. But, I'm working on a deadline and Mr. Klein is surely Very aware of how much time he has to make a decision. It's not my fault if it's unwilling to talk to me and negotiate better terms." The tone is a bit too reasonable. Christian is not at fault here, clearly, just arranging things to inevitably work out for the company that has hired him. Letting the dominos falls as they need to for the numbers to work out in the end.

After all, going public is a big deal to some companies. Christian's job was simply to make sure that when they did, they looked as good as possible.

"But, let's see-if you and Klein have a standard contract, they won't be able to let you go right upon acquisition. So then you'll be jobless in about two months, what will be upswinging in two months?" It's a rhetorical question, one hand pulling out a phone as the other repeat the last three bars, once, twice, three times, slowing down each run as Christian's attention shifts to the phone, "Yep, yep, yep, if you want to stay in music, there are is a new instrumental chain opening a new shop on Broadway, called Music for Life or something-I don't remember. If you want to stick to SoHo area-ehhhhh-"

The reel stops, Christian continuing to flick through his phone, "Shit out of luck? How do you feel about working in Manhattan, few good places there that will likely be looking to hire at least part time as the University students go home for the summer." Christian doesn't look up, but a hint of some self-awareness will touch his words, "Tips likely better in Manhattan."

Christian tuts lightly, mostly to himself still, then will check his watch again, despite having his phone out and open. Time keeps passing! Wow, not fast enough and yet way too fast, "I'll be on the down swing by then, not up for dealing with you being mentally colorful-er bright? What did you say? Mentally vibrant? No time for that today honey, can hit the shops some other time. I should probably go soon."

Phone away, back to piano, 'soon' apparently negotiable or simply poor choices are easy to make while humming with Happy. Christian will stop again barely a few bars back into Flight at the question, looking around the shop more seriously for the first time. "Actually, there's some old stuff here, do you have anything out of Black Swan Records? They are the first black-owned and operated record label. Best blues and jazz there is that wasn't making other people rich-" It's possible this is mansplaining to the person who does, in fact, work the record store, but it seems Christian does genuinely care about music and it's associated history, "I've heard the CDs of them, but never heard them on vinyl. I can't imagine you'd be selling them, but if you have one, I'd love to hear it-Jazz and blues are the heart of most good genres."

Kim Hayes has posed:
    The news from Christian of Monkey Heaven's potential fate - perhaps even inevitable fate - is kind of a gut punch, even if it's what Kim has been expecting to discover in her digging. She masks the anxiety it induces by running her hands over her face and imagining herself vaping right here and now in front of the... well, Christian's not exactly a customer, but close enough.

    "Yeah, I'm sure he'll want to sort things out face-to-face. I'm not sure he was actually too keen on selling."

    He's already giving her her prognosis - two months - and even telling her where she should apply. "Uhh, well, I live closer to Broadway, I guess." Not that 'Music for Life' sounds like they'd be as quite free-spirited as Franz. It's almost too much information for Kim to parse through right now anyway. "Tips? You mean like, hospitality?" The brunette cringes at the thought. She'd probably be escaping through the ventilation in minutes.

    Kim doesn't take offense at the fact that Christian doesn't want to deal with her brain and its co-conspirator when he's not high. It's something that they have in common, after all.

    "Actually, I think that rings a bell," Kim says when Christian makes his request. She doesn't mind the mansplaining either, since it's something that she's mostly grown accustomed to from Franz. She's no expert in 1920s jazz, after all, but she remembers her boss being excited to have picked up a certain 10" and relating a story about it. "One sec."

    Kim disappears into the back office, and a minute later, she's back out, carrying a record sleeve. "You're right about it not being for sale. It's part of Franz's personal collection. He loves the really rare shit, especially when it's got a cool story."

    She takes the vinyl out carefully and sets it up on the shop's record player. "By the Waters of Minnetonka. C. Carrol Clark," she reads directly off the label before setting it to spin. I think Franz said it was one of the first six they made. This is one of the ones he's said he'd literally kill me if I got it scratched."

    She places the needle in the groove carefully before moving back to the front of the counter as the piano starts to kick in over the shop's sound system, soon joined in its melancholic tones by the baritone's voice.

    Leaning against the top, she says, "So, you wanna give me a number or some deets? You know, for when you're high enough to go shopping with me again."

    It might normally take some sort of mental poker face to conceal what motivations might lie beneath Kim taking an unusual degree of interest (for her) in establishing a connection with the guy, but Haze has been wanting to eat somebody this whole time without him seeming to notice - so maybe he won't notice her considering letting them. After all, it's normal for a sales clerk's private thoughts to vacillate between sycophantic and homicidal, right?

Christian Frost has posed:
"Tell him he really needs to call me back then, I'm not going to fleece him unless he makes me do something underhanded to get the man to talk about the offers." Christian shrugs, a wave, tone still mild, "I mean that it doesn't look like this establishment attracts people with a lot of money to drop. There's a few coffee/music stores that caters to the type who tip well."

The type like Christian. The piano picks up jazz as Kim walks away, but will be completely abandoned when she returns.

"You're kidding? That is a find, incredibly rare to get their early ones- Wow, wow, wow!"

Piano fully forgotten, Christian watches, no move to attempt to interrupt her work or touch the record, but he'll talk the whole while. Words still that bright flow of ease, absolutely taken with the fact that the store has one of these very rare records, "Best of stories really with them. Harry Pace was a complicated person, but Black Swan Records was the first time black jazz artists were getting to sell to the audience they played for. It was the first time they owned the music and distribution entirely of their own. But the press-facilities were all white-owned, expensive and trying to buy their own was debt they couldn't repay. Radio didn't help, but the thing that had them go bankrupt and bought out was white-owned labels. That's who had the money. Rules for musicians preventing them from associating with multiple labels still exist of course, but then-Black Swan lost musicians to white-owned labels who could pay more. Talent leaving, couldn't pay back the vinyl press-it was death by a thousand cuts financially really. Tragic really, Pace Phonograph might have made it big, or would be remembered by history if all the other labels weren't trying to push them out."

Christian's non-stop ramble will stop as the music starts. Kim could not exist for all the attention Christian gives her, simply settling down to lean against the counter, head bowed, eyes closed, statue-still. Even when the vinyl is flipped, to No One Knows the Trouble I've Seen, he doesn't move. Just listens.

Christian only moves again as the record runs out. Straightening and pulling a pad of paper out of his pocket, not looking at Kim as he writes, "Black Swan Records failed because of racism and capitalism. Monkey Heaven Records will fail just thanks to capitalism."

Paper is ripped off and put on the counter, "Well, Capitalism and Me it would seem. Text me."

A hand over Christian's face briefly, hitting the downswing it would seem-without a goodbye, Christian is gone. The paper contains his number and 'Christian F.'