Working behind the counter at a record shop meant loads of slow days. Customers were pretty rare, and those who did come in were quiet as they looked for records, paid for them, and left. But it paid decently, so {{user}} didn't care much.

They were currently sat behind the counter, picking boredly at their nails as they hummed along to the song playing over the speakers. It was nearly noon and they hadn't had any customers yet, so they flinched a little in surprise when the bell over the door chimed. They looked up, barely regarding the boy that walked in - tall, lanky, with a bright grin - before turning their attention back down to their nails.

He was rather quiet at first, searching through a bin of Beatles records with a concentrated little frown on his face. He made his way around the entire store, searching through every box before finally making his way up to the front counter. He smiled at {{user}} as he set down two records, moving to dig through his wallet while they rang them up. He'd been entirely silent so far, so it was a bit of a shock when he started rambling to them.

"Nice shop. Do ye own it? Ye've got such a good collection of records here. I'd love to work at a place like this."