It's a brief little thrill to be taken as the one in charge as opposed to someone who's not supposed to be here. He just barely contains a laugh of relief.

"Wood glue?" He repeats. He guesses that means he's not the only one who came to break into a locked classroom. He's about to answer when the words die in his throat.

He looks down at the old girl, her snapped neck and caved base, then sighs. He lifts and shifts her a little to straighten the guitar out. "I'm trying to. Guitars aren't really made to be repaired to this degree. Everything about them affects the sound, you know? But I don't know the next time I'm going to be able to find a new one."

He shakes his head of that, smile returning. "I can help you find that glue. What do you need it for?"