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[ic] i'm outta bullets so fuck it, i use my knife
Playing the guitar was not without its frustrations. He often could not find the right chord to follow the one just strummed, which resulted in constant repetition that took up a lot of time. Usually his personal jam sessions lasted for hours, as the Sadira man was not easily satisfied with himself, his playing. Only when he had mastered what he had planned to in one sitting did he set the instrument down and allow himself to do something else.
He sat there in the dark for many moments tuning and strumming intermittently until the guitar sounded just right. Then, the boy began the difficult task of piecing together one of his favorite songs. It had been many months since his CD player had broken. Luckily he had listened to this particular song many times before that tragic event, making it possible for him to recreate fragments of the remembered guitar tune. Once those sections were committed to his memory, he would try to put them in order and make the song whole again, for himself and anyone else who might someday listen to his playing.
He thought he heard an echoed voice mingled within the enhanced sounds of his instrument. His ears lifted and his fingers paused, and he peered towards the entrance. The silhouette of a female werewolf stood out before the light of the outside world. Kansas was startled by her presence, wondering at the odds of her stumbling upon him here. "Hey, over here," he called, waving his pale hand so that she might find him more easily.