That timely quotation gets another laugh, this one loud enough to briefly draw the attention what seems to be the store's lone employee; he has been in here every time Caleb has ever come in, and usually seems to be unconscious. Caleb, having had a semi-permanent resident on his couch back in Chicago, suspects differently; Steve would cut you in a second, then go right back to snoring into a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. "I don't think there's a safe answer to that question. And thanks, it's not pretty."
Not that Caleb remembers the last time he cried, he is A Man. And also A Dude. "I'm in Divination at Marrowston. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Vincent."
Because he is not like, immune, his eyebrows did briefly flicker at her name, but he also has two braincells to rub together, and figures she must have been asked about ...twenty seven million times, and just--doesn't. Maybe she'll volunteer it later. He leans an arm on the top of the CD rack, not exactly into her personal space, but ...a lean can definitely be flirty, and if so, this one is attempting it gamely. "This is where you get that face people put on when I mention the Divination major. You know, slightly pitying 'god, that's worse than an English major, blah, blah. It's cool, I'm used to it."