The music during this particular hour of the festival is slow, this particular tune led by a thin man dwarfed by his own guitar. Admittedly, it’s a bit amusing to see, and she’s left bobbing her head to the tune, thankful the speakers aren’t so loud as to upset her ears. So, despite a few odd expressions from those who have never seen someone quite like this, she’s able to spend a few hours listening to the rotating cast of performers.
Eventually, she’s tired and craving a drink, and ends up on the edge of this part of the party, hunting around for a place to get a soda. It’s been awhile since she’s enjoyed one, after all, and it wouldn’t hurt to enjoy one.
She ends up standing next to a stranger, waiting in line for said cold beverage. “The music’s really nice,” she comments that idly, offering a closed-mouthed smile to the other. “How long have you been listening?”