Walking into the small store, you register a silvery ringing as you glance about quickly. Checking over your shoulder, you see the source of the soft chiming as the small bells strung onto the shop's door. Not that they prove actually necessary to announce your arrival; the shop is small enough that any newcomers are easily seen. (Though…there doesn't seem to be anyone around to notice you.) They seem to be there for nothing more than decoration and old-fashioned tradition. A nice touch, nonetheless.

Before you, rows of CDs wind around through the store in an oddly labyrinthine fashion. Various instruments hang precariously from the walls alongside old records, and you vaguely wonder if the seemingly quite old records are actually there for sale, or if they're meant only to be seen as nostalgic reminders that should never, under any circumstance and pain of an undoubtedly vicious death, be touched. Or breathed upon...That does seem rather likely in this odd place.

Your quick scan about has also revealed that you are, in fact, the only customer present. It doesn't seem to be a terribly popular little place, does it? Without having to worry about other store-goers, you aimlessly begin to meander through the aisles, simply following CD covers with a curious gaze rather than giving appropriate attention to where, exactly, you're wandering.

Which, perhaps, is exactly the reason you suddenly find your head colliding with something rather solid. You stumble back in surprise, hearing an accompanying sound of shock that you're quite certain was not your own. Rubbing the spot on your head where a bump is sure to appear tomorrow morning (or maybe even later this afternoon), you look over in an attempt to discover what you ran into.

First in your line of vision is a large brown box sitting on the floor, multiple CDs scattered around it, apparently having jumped out when the box hit the floor. You next see the young male sitting on the floor, who you guess to be an employee, leaning back on his arms in obvious surprise. Black bangs are thrown over his face, hiding his face. Giving a shake of his head, causing rather outrageous hair to fly out in a dog-like fashion, he blinks and looks over at you. A sheepish grin slips onto his face alongside the already present blush. Are you okay?

Somewhat amused by his earnest sincerity and obvious embarrassment, you give a nod of your head, assuring that you are, in fact, just fine. Surprised, if anything. He seems relieved by this, and suddenly grins at you. Oh, good to hear, then. As long as nobody's hurt, right? I only got this job 'cause the boss wanted me to stop bothering him. I can't imagine he'd take too well to me injuring a customer, he explains with a laugh, rather light-hearted about the whole situation. He then crouches down to gather up the CDs strewn about, and, after a moment, you bend down to help him. The collision was partially your fault after all, right?

Glancing over at you once more, he gives a smile. Thanks. Name's Dak, by the way. Let me know if you need help finding anything.

.

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Name Dakoris
Alias Dak
Gender Male
Age 19
Species Gelert
Height 5'6
Weight 126 pounds
Occupation Works at a music store
Hair Black & blond
Eyes Brown

Love --
Parents --
Siblings --

A small part of you mentally notes that you should have expected his easy-going and almost joking response. That attitude is simply ingrained in his very being. Shifting your own position against the counter, you look up at him again, surveying him with a questioning look.

Seeming to sense that you're already getting prepared to raise another question, he raises an eyebrow in anticipation, looking back at you with a slight hint of a smile on his lips. So he isn't taken by surprise when you ask after his life. Children may be firm in their beliefs that teachers really do live at school, but nothing has ever been said of those people who work at music stores, so surely the young male goes out and harbors interests beyond selling CDs and music equipment.

When you speak the word "hobby," a sudden smile lights his face. Of course I have hobbies! My favorite would definitely have to be building up my collection. Before you even get a chance to ask what, exactly, he means by his collection, he abruptly whips out a picture of three hats in order to properly explain. Why on earth he has that picture...well, maybe you just don't want to know.

It's almost more of a disease than a hobby. I just...can't help myself around fun hats. Though, I don't actually wear them very often...They just sit around my apartment, taking up space I should probably be using for something else, something a bit more necessary. But, hey, even odd and adorable hats deserve love, right?

Yeah, they may be a little goofy, but I still can't help but like them. The best thing is just happening across a fun one when you're not expecting it, y'know? Like when you're walkin' around a flea market, or clicking around on the internet, and it's just suddenly there. Of all of them, though, those three are my favorite. The first one, the rabbit, was my very first hat; it's the one that got me hooked on collecting 'em. A friend made it for me ages ago, and I think I fell in love with how utterly random and amazing it is. I found the witch hat one year when I was searching for a Halloween costume. Lots of fun to wear, but getting through doors can kinda be a pain...As for the bear hat, well...c'mon, it's a bear hat. That speaks for itself, my friend.
Dak is proud to announce that he currently houses 22 unique hats.

Anthro adoptables for Dak? o: Ohmy.
Requests&Trades : open

-- Mine x3 --

--By others (hover for artist)--

♥♥♥♥♥

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Ohkaybai~