When he said they had plenty, Kirley made an appreciative noise, but he was distracted by the sets of strings that he was viewing, combing them for his favorites. He was very particular, and he’d only play on certain brands, certain sets. If he wasn’t satisfied, he’d strip them off and get more. He had plenty of money to be picky.
Kirley had in his possession a few more guitars than should probably be allowed for any one man. But he was an enthusiast, totally dedicated, and he loved them all. It was nice to see that someone else also played the guitar around there. Perhaps he’d have to come into the store more often, purely for that fact. It wasn’t that people that played the guitar were rare, but people that really and truly had a passion and skill for it? Those were harder to find.
“There’s no need for ‘just’ when you’re talking about a Standard. They’re still beautiful instruments. Perhaps not quite as flashy, but they play a fine tune,” he amended, grinning a bit, “I have a Standard as well, but I don’t play her much anymore. I go through phases, I suppose. When they retire, they get their rest, but still the best treatment around. I still have even my first guitar.”
He laid hands on his guitar strings, however, and everything else was momentarily forgotten, “These are the ones,” he said confidently, holding them out to the bloke, “I’m going to need...oh, say about ten sets?” Kirley knew that was a lot of strings, and it should last him quite a while. Most people only changed theirs every few months, but he had to change his more often. Kirley played all the time, unlike a lot of people, and he played hard.