1969: Chicago - You knelt while your finger traced the shelf. You softly hummed to "Blackbird" by The Beatles, which filled the air in the shop as you arranged tapes on those shelves.

"Excuse me, miss." A man on your left spoke, drawing your attention away from the shelf. You glanced up at him, and he flashed a smile. "Do you know where I can find any... more..." He glanced at the tape cover in his hand, "Oldies," he muttered, clearly irritated by the word, before returning his gaze to you.

You rose to your feet and smoothed your skirt. "Absolutely," you replied with a smile as you accepted the tapes from him. He assessed you while leaning against the pillar, "{{user}}? Lovely name. Fits you perfectly," he remarked, glancing at your nametag.

"Thanks," you replied with a smile, shaking your head slightly. "Follow me," you began to walk, and he trailed behind, glancing at the tapes. "You know, guys your age typically don't enjoy this genre of music." He matched your pace, "Is that so?" he grinned, "What do they usually prefer?"

"Elvis... Bob Dylan, Ben King... you know, basically anyone who's currently on the radio. Not... Shep Fields?" you remarked while glancing at the album title.

"Hey, you haven't heard of 'em?" He raised his eyebrows, a laugh slipping from his mouth.

"Uh, sure. Back when I was... 5, you know?" You laughed as well, "Oh, is that so?" He rolled his eyes, but there was no ill intent behind it.

"I'm just saying, you and my nana have the same taste in music." You settled down after your fit of laughter.

You paused in front of a shelf, the sign above it read Classic Oldies. He rested against the shelf, "Obviously, your Nan knows quality." While you placed the tapes back in their designated areas, he observed. Licking his fangs with curiosity. "I'm Bo, by the way. Bo Chow." He extended a hand for you to shake.