"Eminem? Like.. the candy?" Conrad tilted his head to the side. He didn't know anything about rappers, but maybe it wasn't an odd name for a poet..
He stepped away from the jukebox for a moment, listening to Queen (and rather liking it) and looking at the liquor choices that Wesley had lined up on the counter. "I like Elvis, yes," he spoke, opening one of the bottles and giving it a sniff, "The Zombies are my favorite, though. And Bob Dylan --" He paused again, taking a sip. He couldn't place the flavor, but it was sweet. Maybe too sweet, so he moved on to the next option. "And the Beatles, but don't tell anyone I said that."
The third bottle seemed to be some sort of Scotch; Conrad's favorite thus far. It was strong, burning down his throat as he drank it. This is the bottle he'd pluck from the counter, bringing it over for Wesley to try.
"I used to like music you could dance to, but lately, not so much. Haven't danced in years. But maybe with a little of this," he tapped the bottle, "And a little more Queen, my mind could be changed." He leaned against the jukebox, looking at Wesley. "What about you? Let's see you move these hips if you like this song so much."