I'd changed into my favorite purple cargo pants and a band shirt and was waiting for Wisty, keeping myself occupied by scheming up a few ideas on how this week would go. A few minutes later the walked over in jeans and a flame-print black T-shirt. Far too fitting.

"What are we doing first?" she asked, pulling her hair into a ponytail for once.

"You're putting your hair up," I observed.

She shrugged, tying it off. "It gets in the way. So, what are we doing?"

I grinned. "Just follow." I motioned for her to and led her over several still-sleeping kids and halfway across the store. I glanced around the rack we were half-hiding behind and saw, just as expected, Sasha and Emmett talking quietly. They were sitting side by side, their backs to me. Perfect.

I gestured for Wisty to stay there, snuck up behind the boys, grabbed Sasha's guitar from where it was lying right behind him, and ran, making sure not to make any noise. Wisty was right behind me, obviously trying not to laugh.

I got back to the general area of where we slept and we both doubled over from laughing, our hands covering our mouths to block and sound.

"Oh, God, what's he gonna do when he finds out?" Wisty asked, holding back laughter and whispering so she wouldn't wake anyone up.

I shrugged, trying to stop laughing, myself. "Probably get pretty annoyed, but nothing too bad. As long as we don't damage it, at least."

She grinned, plopped down onto the floor, crossed her legs, picked the guitar up from where I'd half-dragged it, put it on her lap, and strummed a quiet chord.

"You play?" I asked, sitting next to her.

She nodded, hesitated, and shrugged. "Well, a little. You?"

I nodded. "Been taking lessons since I was five, actually." I took it from her, put it in my lap, and strummed a warm-up chord. I looked back up at her. "What do you wanna hear first?"