"Your name is of the season of change, of loss and reward for hard work, but yet you have neither changed, lost anything, or had to work for anything you have. You're a child, Autumn, and always hide when it gets too hard. You hated college, music training, and making music with others, so what did you do? You ran, You ran from college, from music, from your friends, and from your family. No one likes just screaming, despite your constant insistence on such. What you make isn't music, there's no soul, no heart or effort, you just expect fame to come to you like everything else has, on a silver platter. Your parents loved you and supported you, but you pushed them away and blamed them for everything you didn't like. Not very thankful is it?"
He glares at you and his voice rings clear.
"You're undeserving of your name, Autumn, and that is what my issue with it. You don't care about it, and thus, neither do I."
He crosses his arms and turns to Roy, and says, in a much friendlier tone,
"Whatcha selling?"