I studied the teen with his cloud of brown curls before smiling. "So, then, Mr. Martelli, do we have a deal? I will find and retrieve everything of yours which was stolen from your basement studio. In return, you will write me a song to these specifications..." I tapped the sheet of paper on the table between us. "...And you and Ms. Hernandez here..." (at which point I nodded at the slender Puerto Rican girl next to him) "...will record it for me. On this." I held up the memory crystal and the pair's eyes widened. "Agreed?"
-- Bob
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Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.
-- Bob
---------
Then the horns kicked in...
...and my shoes began to squeak.