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"Here," says Tom, sliding the record into Dickie's hands, "this one next."
Dickie stares down at it for a moment, his mouth turning up at the corners, and Tom braces for whatever quip is incoming—but then again, Dickie tells him, "D'you know, I used to own a copy… probably wore it out from overplaying."
"Really?" Tom relaxes. He's safe with Dickie. He's safe. "Yeah," he says, feeling the delayed flush of pleasure, response at the ready. "Yeah, me too. Wanna see how it holds up?"
Dickie tilts his head toward the listening booth, and Tom gladly leads the way.