Re: Receiving line, open to well-wishers.
He had pulled his look together for the day, his simple muted blue button-up dress shirt complementing the fall colors around them nicely - not entirely tucked in, because Classic wasn't the kind of man to look that formal, with a well-used pair of dark trousers that were slightly fitted through the thigh, with a subtle flare at the knee to suggest he bought the pants in the 1970's. Classic had eased his way into the line sometime before Autumn, his movements and gestures fluid.
The gift he would give them was simple, and it was also from Autumn: a recording, professionally done, of what would happen to be most of Marijuana and Heroin's favorite songs from the classic rock canon, including many by Pink Floyd, perhaps one by The Beatles, and, of course, several by Velvet Underground and David Bowie. There would be others, more obscure favorites for which Classic only barely felt were the newlywed's prized songs, but he had an uncanny way of simply... knowing. The recordings were all acoustic, the vocals a breathtaking intertwining of Classic and Autumn's voices. The last song, and he was certain MJ was unaware of it when it happened, was a recorded jam session of theirs - Classic, MJ and Hippie - from months before.
Upon reaching MJ, he embraced his close friend warmly, clapping him on the back some. "What a day, man, what a day this is. Congratulations, Smoke, Marijuana, Heroin." He smiled his half smile, gaze turning to Heroin, Heroin who he, like Hippie, had never known quite as well, but, he knew him, still. Classic was a man of few words and many songs, and conversation, when not sung, was not his forte`. He took Heroin's hand as it was offered, gave it a firm squeeze and let his warm, dark gaze flicker across his friend's husband. Crooked smile shifted to a grin, and he nodded. "Good life to you both." And he moved off, waiting with hands folded in front of him for Hippie, who came trailing to him with glassy eyes after saying her own wishes to the newlyweds.