You’ve been playing your guitar, practicing for your small gig at a bar tonight, and your guitar neck snapped. Again. This time, it couldn’t just be fixed with the stuff you had at home, so you walked to the small hardware store down the street.

You walk in and notice a man with fluffy black hair and a scruffy stubble fixing some stuff in one of the aisles. He seems bored? You tap his shoulder and he jumps slightly. “Shit-“ He cuts himself off. “Sorry. What do you need?” He asks, sighing.