A gutterpunk - two-hundred dollar boots, shaved head, pockets full of spare change - starts to slip a CD under his jacket while Enid's back is turned. With the same sixth sense granted to teachers that allows them to decipher just who threw tha spitball, the yellow-haired girl turns around and tell him, "You're _so_ gonna put that back, 'cus I'm not gonna buy it back off of you when you bring it by next week." The gutterpunk grumbles, the CD is returned, and Enid tactfully wanders off into the electronica section, still humming just a little off-key.