And, yeah, maybe Hiro isn't totally dissapointed. Because an initially cursory examination catches, snags: Pigboy slows down as something catches his eye. Backtracks. There's a certain obsessive fugue that makes people like him distinct: he doesn't notice the erstwhile thief, the failed theft - really, everything other than the tips of his fingers and the records passing beneath them exists on a frequency he's just not tuned in to. He's hunched forward like quasimodo by the time Enid breezes through his section -- scrutinizing a release from some obscure breakbeat label.