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The last time he'd been in On the Downbeat had been a few months ago, and he's been itching to get back to the store to see if the Epiphone Ultra 339 he'd been eyeing is still there. It had been retailing for about $1300 the last Newt had checked, which isn't much of an issue but he's engaged and weddings cost money and maybe, just maybe, a few bucks have been knocked off the price between then and now. He misses playing music, and he's got way too many co-workers with terrible taste--Tiffany Charlotte and Todd Chad? No. No. No, he refuses, absolutely refuses--so he's eager to be surrounded by instruments that will actually produce good sounds.

When he enters the store, he doesn't bother with browsing anything else, just heads straight toward the wall of electric guitars where, sure enough, the Epiphone is still hanging from its so very majestic hook. "Compact like a Les Paul but with the double cutaway and semi-hollow design of the ES-335," he murmurs under his breath, and it's like fucking poetry, man, that's exactly what this is like. He's only somewhat aware of someone walking up next to him, and he assumes it's one of the Downbeat workers so he rambles on. "Pickup-ring-mounted tuner, NanoMag pickup for acoustic sounds and USB output for direct computer recording capability, and I swear, if I wasn't already getting married, I would marry out the hell out of--"

He turns his head then to find a face he hadn't expected--Jesse--and his eyebrows lift in surprise as a friendly smile curves at his lips. "Oh, shit, dude, so did not know that was you." He holds a hand out for a shake. "How's it hangin'?"

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Dr. Newton Geiszler

March 2017

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