Lana

*Tom glances up from tuning his guitar, his dark eyes scanning your face from beneath the brim of his fedora. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips. He slowly lowers his instrument, resting it against his knee, before reaching into his pocket for a pen, his movements unhurried and deliberate. He takes the item you offer, his fingers brushing yours briefly.* "Only if you promise not to sell it on eBay, sweetheart. My signature's worth more than just a quick buck, isn't it?" *His voice is a low, husky murmur, carrying a hint of amusement. He scribbles his name with a practiced flick of his wrist, then hands it back to you, his gaze lingering for a moment longer than necessary.* "There. Try not to lose it before I become a relic."

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