Though he hadn't had any real expectations for it, the song that the band was playing was quite unexpected; the music was almost uncharacteristically innocuous—a repeated beat, backed by steadily rising instrumentation. To Moe's disappointment the theremin didn't seem to be involved quite yet, but hey, he was here to listen to music, and that's what he was going to do. Last night, he'd stayed up later than he'd liked to have, doing just that (the consequences of which he was still seeing even now), but the pressure of the next day's work had precluded any chance of him actually relaxing. Now, Moe could finally sit back for a while; after all, the day was coming slowly to a close with the evening, and, at least for the time being, he didn't have anywhere to really be.

Many of the people around him, however, didn't consider the music to be such an opportunity; several had decided to completely ignore it, while others used it as something of a conversation piece. "[i]This is a Wilco song. I saw them live a couple years ago. The instrumentation is just really weird. I think they’re holding off with the theremin until the bridge at the end of the song. Good thing, too.[/i]" Moe overheard one of the plaid-shirts say to the other; while he personally disagreed with the judgment of the theremin, he nonetheless nodded slightly with the intention of indicating his understanding, though of course they wouldn't notice. Moe turned, taking a slow sip of his drink, as a nearby group got up from their table and walked back towards the door, perhaps in protest of the music; looking back, he saw the two plaid-shirts eyeing the abandoned table eagerly.

“You look like you need to relax. Get yourself a beer and meet us over there." The unexpected remark came from the one whom Moe had overheard. He seemed friendly enough, if not slightly drunk, but Moe couldn't spend much more time here, he had, what? Another quick phone check, aaaand... ten minutes. When would that be—the end of the song? He probably shouldn't get involved in that sort of business now.

"Oh, I'm actually at work, or on my break, and I can't really..." Moe's excuse trailed off as Plaid-Shirt #1 walked off to claim his new table, some feet away from where he'd been sitting at the bar, with Plaid-Shirt #2 following behind him. He scanned the room apprehensively: there was the guy from outside, typing something on his phone and then looking up, startled at the girl in black, who pulled up a chair beside the Plaid-Shirts and was ordering a drink. The Guy-from-Outside reacted astonishedly; while Moe himself was somewhat bewildered, personally he wasn't as taken aback—after all, why should he be?

"[i]How about that fucking radio-thing, huh? You guys ever heard shit like that before?[/i]" she said, an air of confidence around her. Moe glanced towards her, noting her apparent youth—she was maybe college age, or so, probably not old enough to drink. The Guy-from-Outside had focused back on his phone briefly, apparently anxious about whatever he was looking at; he put the device away, and refocused his attention back on the Girl-in-Black to respond to her question. Slightly sympathetic to the man's apparent plight, Moe shuffled forwards, toying with the idea of participating in the conversation.

[i]Well, I might as well have[/i] some [i]sort of distraction[/i]. "...Neither have I," he interjected reluctantly, nodding slightly at the Guy-from-Outside. "I heard the theremin from outside; I'm on my break, and was interested in hearing the band play, so I guess that's why I'm here now." His voice was oddly raised, a slight touch of defensiveness present, as though he were trying to announce the circumstances behind his presence there; as he finished his sentence, he glanced around at those around him, anticipating their responses. Moe sipped again from his drink, this time with distinct sense of caution, hoping that he wouldn't be drawn too far into the discussion.