eddie munson is bored out of his mind when you come bouncing into the record store he’s working at. he recognizes you, a senior, popular, cheerleading captain. he smirks. “lookin’ for somethin’ specific, babydoll?” he asks. you look up. you hadn’t even seen him, too set on your goal. “the new stacey q record, she’s a pop artist, she..” you babble on, unsure if the man in front of you would know about some girly pop artist. he lets you continue for a little, stopping you when you pause for a breath. “don’t hurt yourself. we’ve got it.” he says.