That's why you've got radio, ( he tells her, before gesturing in the direction of the cash desk, next to which is a neat display of packs of blank cassettes, advertised at the bargain price of, like, $3.99 or something else stupendously era-appropriate.

(it's one banana, michael, what could it cost?)

he thinks he remembers reading that recording music off the radio was illegal back when he was a kid, but truthfully, he's not sure if that was a fever dream made up by an overactive imagination or if you could totally go to jail for pirating music from radio stations. earth laws are not his strong point. )

You hear a song that you like, don't know where to get it or just— ( he shrugs ) don't love it enough to spend actual money on it, just wait for the DJ to play it again.

( up until the last few days, recording radio waves broadcast deep into space was the only way peter was able to curate his collection — space was great for a lot of things, but there's not much that can hold a candle to earth music. )

—The Smiths are more about loneliness than sadness, ( he adds belatedly, shooting her a glance. )