V wasn't really here because he particularly cared to be as much as it was just something to do. Shiny new thing required him to put eyes on it: perhaps there was something worthwhile to be found.

He stopped before the booth and looked over the balloons, hand idly rubbing one of the pistols longingly. He missed his guns every day that he was here. He missed going shooting. It didn't take long for his gaze to fixate on the balloon on her choker.

"The one on your choker a joke?" Or was she really gonk enough to have such a messy death wish?