"Bruce, my man!" Elaine sets down her lute and jumps the counter, joining Bruce at the Thrashhead display. She nudges his shoulder with hers, careful to avoid the spikes. "Bummer 'bout the band, my friend. You guys do good stuff. GOOD stuff. Vocalists, amiright? Flighty. Nothin' steady like a good chord holding 'em down.
Hey, know what? Go on, next lute's on the house. You've been real good to me, hon."
She points to the lute in Bruce's hands.
"Yeah, that's a special one, there. Moloch. Seven strings, solid body, pau ferro neck and the tone," she whistles. "You always did have a good eye, Brucie."