Adam's heart fair swelled at the mention of Murder Ballads, an album long close to his heart. Whatever last, dwindling reservations he might have had about his new floor mate were rapidly dissipating. To anyone else it might have seemed ludicrous that so much of Adam's first impressions hinged upon music, but to him there was no better window into someone's soul. That was a lesson he had learned long ago, when music was at once his savior and outlet, further solidified by his experiences with Alexandria: Only in music did she truly let herself go, and express what was within her she otherwise never dared show. That Richard seemed a man who understood such things, or at least allowed himself the breadth of musical experience to begin to understand, spoke volumes to his nature - or so Adam thought.
"There's a B-side to that," he said, getting more excited than he had any cause. "'The Willow Garden.' Just... beautiful." He shook his head, words clearly failing him. "I do like his more folksy stuff, but honestly I've never met a Nick Cave song I didn't like." He straightened up, another small stack of books in his hand. Neatly he set the second on top of the first, squaring off the edges. His eyes were soon drawn back to the cover showing the coiled serpent; it seemed he could not look away overlong, a fact he found as distressing as it was unavoidable. He cleared his throat, the tip of his tongue worrying at his labret.
"So this rant of yours," Adam began. "It wasn't much of a rant." He chuckled, looking up to Richard. "I'm curious to hear the rest of it."