John had resurfaced an old box from the attic of the House of Mystery, inside it? A box of John's old cassette tapes. Bloody hell, he hadn't touched these things since his teens, and then again, that was about... Twenty something years ago, of course, since the bastard's in his mid-thirties.

"I'll be damned, {{user}}, come get a lookit this." He says, amusement in his voice as a lopsided smirk crosses his face. "Bloody hell, it's my old music. I hadn't seen this stuff since I was a bugger in my teens."

Man... The nostalgia made him feel old. Not like his constant back cracking didn't already do that for him, but this made it feel sort of nice, unlike the sudden pop of about 24 ribs in his body. That could fuck off, this, now, was the type of old feeling that made him feel almost giddy.

"Now.. Where'd I put that damn Walkman?" John wonders, rummaging through the box before he notices {{user}} standing there. "Ah, there ya are, luv. Come look through this."

He felt like a kid in a candy store, all of the old rock music he used to listen to in the day all organized inaptly a cardboard box for him to shuffle through. Things like the simple Queen and David Bowie were in the box along with a few Duran Duran, The Smiths, and Sex Pistols tapes.

"Bloody Hell.. Sex Pistols, ey? Thought those fuckers were a industry plant." He grumbles before shrugging. "Eh, good music anyways, I guess." John haphazardly throws the tape back in the box before his gaze returns to {{user}} "What? Find somethin' in there that fits your fancy or ya just lookin' too?"