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"Oho!" Rob chortled, nearly spitting out his tea. "So you were one of those girls!" he replied in his post Kensington accent before slipping back into his normal nondescript Brit accent. "A Marks & Spence girl! Funny old world, innit, that we should have such a very similar background. And that we both rebelled against it, each in our own way." He leaned in with a cheeky grin and a wink. "I won't tell if you won't. It'll be our dirty little secret."

Collecting himself, though still snickering with amusement, he took a sip of tea. "Never went to uni myself," he admitted, shaking his dreadlocked head. "Took me A-levels and that was that. I was going to be a rock star, y'see. Almost was, too. Still am."

He placed his tea down before continuing. "Formed a band right out of sixth form. I taught them all how to play their instruments, wrote all the music, managed all the bookings and financials, even recorded the CDs myself. Heh, my mum didn't care -- she was just happy that some of what she taught me had stuck," he chuckled. "We were pretty good, I think -- we played out a lot, sold a metric ton of CDs at shows and online."

Shaking his head again, he picked up his tea. "You have no idea how bitter and angry I was when we moved to the States, love. No idea at all," he said before taking a sip.

Despite himself, Rob could feel the color rise in his face at Sadie's words. He lowered his eyes and nodded a grateful bow. "Thank you, that's a very kind thing to say." Glancing down at his guitar case, he looked back up at her. "I did mean that universally, by the way. Think about when you watch someone making music. Don't you want them to make the best music they can? Don't you want to love what they're doing?" He could tell she did, just by her expression when he was playing. "Of course," he continued with a grin, "it helps to look like you're having fun while you're playing, like you're really getting into it. It becomes contagious at that point."

Leaning his elbow on the counter, he rested his cheek against it. "Have I ever thought about going back… Yeah, yeah I have. Like I said a bit ago, I just got back from London -- stayed there three years this time. I got the band back together while I was there, and we played some gigs. It was… amazing, you know, being up on stage and playing my music and the band behind me and the audience in front of me. They didn't know who we were when we took the stage, but they sure as hell knew who we were when we left," he said dreamily, lost in the feeling of performing in front of a crowd.

"I've tried to get a band together here, but I dunno, I don't think they get what I'm doing." He shook his dreadlocked head. "What I do, what I write, is what I call Pict-Punk. It's punk, but it calls back to English folk music and Celtic type stuff and even some faerie stuff. It sounds all over the place," he laughed, "but it's not. Here."

Rooting around in his backpack, he pulled out a CD and handed it to her. "Have this. On the house, love. I'm pretty sure you'll get what I'm trying to do, even if you don't like punk."

Rob wasn't about to ask Sadie about the scars around her ruined right eye, even though she had indirectly brought the subject up. You just didn't ask a pretty girl about such things. Instead, he focused on the rest of her words. "You're right, on both counts. No matter how much people want to see you succeed, there's going to be those who want to see you fail. I've had my share of those too -- people throwing s**t at me onstage because I was only the opening act, people heckling me on the street corner, people leaving nasty comments on Bandcamp. It can be hard to ignore sometimes."

He gave her his most winning smile. "But you know what? People like you make it all worth it. That's what keeps me going -- not that I could not make music, it's in me blood. It's the ones who support me who get me out there and playing. I do it for you."

Sadie asked about the "Pict-Punk" thing, and he had to laugh. "That's a me thing, it is. I came up with the term when I was all reading about the Picts and s**t in school. They're real, all righty, blue paint and swirly rock carvings and all." Then she brought up fairies and festivals, and he cocked his head. "I've heard of fairies, but never thought about playing at one…That's a really good idea!" he grinned at her. "That might be good for my busking routine, unless I took the punk stuff unplugged…"

Thinking about the idea, he went to sip his tea, but there was only a small amount left, so he slammed the rest of it in one gulp and put the mug on the counter. "Did you want more tea, love? Or are you okay?"

"Yes," Rob laughed, "you'll have to tell me what you think of my music. I wrote everything, 'cept the trad English folkie stuff, and played all the instruments." With a smile, he gave a little seated half-bow. "I hope you like it."

He tilted his head and gave her a wry little smile. "So, you're already hooked, yeah?" he joked. "Knew it, has to be my natural charm an' good looks, right?" Then he laughed again. "I'm on that street corner every weekday from about 2 to just before rush hour. Rain might keep me away -- not much business happens on a rainy day anyway." He looked at her with a warm grin. "Thank you for saying that, it means a lot to me knowing that you get what drives me to make music. So few people do. So thank you," he nodded.

Rooting around in his backpack again, he pulled out a $20 and left it on the counter. "I'm as good as my word, see? That'll cover both of us and a nice tip." He shouldered his backpack again and slid off the stool to stand."It was lovely chatting with you like this, Sadie. You're a special person. I'm really happy you stopped to listen to me play."

The dreadlocked musician grinned. "And I hope to buy you another cup of tea again soon."