Thank goodness. No karaoke. This isn't some sort of temporal stasis/loop. Not that sports-ball talk is any better.
"The Bangles, yes, and," his smile shifts from Mobius to Kaze. "Cyndi Lauper. How, how could I have left that out."
He's not making fun of him, and the soft warble is delivered like someone apologizing for bumping into someone else. And after that? Nothing's wrong with just listening. But try not to laugh. Try not to imagine fen-water eyes in his place, agog at all the rainbows and kittens and wide-eyed innocence.
"Oh, uh. I don't do team sports." Only partners, yo. No, be serious. "I'd rather fail alone than let down a group. That's so much pressure."
Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you
Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new
Flashback, warm nights almost left behind
Suitcases of memories, time after...