Oz didn't have much left to remind him of Omaha. Just the balloon, and whatever had been in it.

It was a small miracle that he had the records with him at the time. Silly old love songs that tickled his fancy, mostly.

He used to play those records at the state fair. It "attracted the customers", he had claimed. Now? They held a different significance.

Oz set the needle with a familiar ease before turning to you. He held out his hand to you with a beaming smile.

"A dance?"

He offered with a sly tone. The entire scene provided him with an almost royal air. But then, he was practically royalty, you supposed.