[This a seriously buck wild conversation, but Ryuji's gotten close enough to know that a planet made out of lava, gears, and particularly yappy crocodiles is probably just another every day occurrence. No big deal. He'd like to visit that too, honestly. Stand at the edge of the planet and throw a ring into the molten abyss, feel accomplishment at completing this horribly nerdy cliche, and call it a day. Any place that's not the station sounds pretty damn chill to be in, even if that chill place is a nice and balmy fire wasteland.]

Like the type of place that sells LPs? Sounds cool. The best part about that is always flippin' through and seein' all the cover art. They got more room, so they can really go all out. [A steady Jazz resurgence all over Tokyo in the past decade has turned some of those old record stores into a hipster paradise, but there were definitely some hole-in-the-wall type places that still existed where it didn't feel like its style was eternally cramped by salarymen coming in and grabbing stuff up to try and hitch onto the bandwagon.

The toilet would be all types of amusing though. Why did the shitter have such significance to all things Dave and Ryuji? This wasn't supposed to happen, I swear.]

Yeah, you think so? Shit, I'd have to make a good impression. Make sure I cut this mop off, clean up my jumpsuit, shower a little extra hard. [Joking, really, he probably wouldn't do any of that.] You've met like, half my friends already. I uh. I hope you like 'em. They're all good peeps.