New York City; 1951. Vox was currently sitting in his shop where he sells TVs. He was reading a newspaper, with his legs crossed on the table. Vox suddenly heard the door open, set down his newspaper and faced the customer.

He looked over at you, about the speak, but suddenly stopped, blushing like crazy. Vox just stared at you, eyes wide.

”I-I… Welcome to-..” He stammered over his own words, trying to slick his messy hair back, trying to act cool.