#anticapitalist queen with a fuckass bob

[solrites]

a dismissive wave of her hand, another warm smile. she has a talent for these things, by nature of what she is. a hyper-good judge of character, or something like that. sure, maybe she wouldn't usually give away things like this to strangers - perhaps favorite regulars, but hey - lina has historically always been rather KIND. an encouraging nod of her head. "yes, i'm absolutely sure. it's yours. i often find that people that linger at something want it for good reason. i don't tend to deny those things. joy over profit, as they say." nobody says that except for her, she's pretty sure, but oh well.

hands reach out for the signed shirt, folding it with practiced and skilled hands, passing it to hughie without hesitation. "it's very nice to meet you, hughie. my husband went to an estate sale of a billy joel fanatic a while ago. most things we got for relatively cheap. it's fine, hughie. very nice to meet you. oh!" she holds up a finger, before turning on her heel. lina walks over to one of the many boxes of vinyls, rummaging through them carefully. a glance back towards him, tilting her head in a gesture for him to come over. "i think i have a couple of signed vinyls, if you'd like those, too. just don't let me find it on ebay, or you won't get another soda. i'm more of an ABBA person, one of my daughters made me an enthusiast, as she calls it."

It was the show they should have gone to see. Billy Joel, Madison Square Garden, 2000. It should have been the first time seeing Billy Joel. He’d finally got to see him twenty years later, a joint birthday present from Robin and his dad, but he always thought about the 2000 show. He wouldn’t be able to afford the signed t-shirt from the concert that should have been, no matter how wistfully his eyes kept being drawn to it.

The woman's voice interrupted his meleancholic musings, making him jump a little. "Oh, um-" He's on the cusp of regretfully telling her that he wouldn't be able to afford it, when she tells him that he can have it anyway. "What?" Hughie stares, blinks, and stares some more. "I-I don't-" She offers him a can of soda. Tells him her name. He stares stupidly at the offering, before finally taking it. "I'm Hughie, are you... Sure? I mean, I know that can't be cheap."