[ pulling the guitar into his lap, he looks it over with her direction. heads, at least, he knew — bridge pin he didn't. he really should've grabbed a few of those guitar magazines he saw last time he was at the supermarket, but, well... no one's ever said Guanshan had a whole lot of foresight. ]
[ a few of the strings are broken and shooting out at odd angles, jabbing at his clothes. he ignores them and does as he's told, beginning to twist the taut stringers loser at the head. he can see how people get hand cramps from this... ]
How often'm I supposed'a change 'em? [ give him a second and he realizes that probably depends on how often it's played... ] Like, if I fuck with it every day?
no subject
[ a few of the strings are broken and shooting out at odd angles, jabbing at his clothes. he ignores them and does as he's told, beginning to twist the taut stringers loser at the head. he can see how people get hand cramps from this... ]
How often'm I supposed'a change 'em? [ give him a second and he realizes that probably depends on how often it's played... ] Like, if I fuck with it every day?