The night was bustling, city lights abound and neverending with crowds of restless tourists and residents. Every establishment seemed to be alive, or if they weren't they were well masked from all the neon flashing around. Adverts, promotions, slogans flashed on every screen and sign, traffic abound, yet everything seemed quaint, copacetic. Everything had a purpose, a readiness for patience as their actions were rewarded by citizens able to walk after vehicles drove, by the signs changing to show the dates for the next musical after the previous repulsive tripe of some cleaning product blinded your senses and made you ponder over why your ex was so into that crap.<br/><br/>Another day, another gig; that, however, was how it was for many a performer. From singers, to instrumentalists, to comedians, actors, and even speakers... The city truly never slept, and it was a rousing area that anyone and their mother would have to break themselves into submission of its schedule. No way could thousands of people and trillions of atoms of electricity bend to the preferences of one man.<br/><br/>Well, not for long. I mean, come on, sleeping medication and alarm clocks were invented for a reason, no?<br/><br/><hr/><br/><strong>"Cheers!"</strong><br/><br/>Another successful show. He and the band were making absolute bank, and the crew was being such a wonderful help. Hell, even the restaurant was being kind as to give them one of their better tables. Surely this had to be a dream. How many times had this happened in a row, now? Frankly, they all frequented the place every other night, so now the establishment more than likely vehemently expected them, but nevertheless it was a great time for everyone... so everyone thought.<br/><br/>At center stage sat a tall, lanky-formed man with copper brown locks set back in a cobra-braid ponytail so he could better reach for food and drink without locks getting in the way. Long earrings dangled from his lobules, eyes like peridots gleaming in triumphant pride and morale. "Congratulations, everyone, on another perfect performance!"<br/><br/><strong>"Aw, come on, Mey," </strong>a man at the table whined, cackling with a cup in hand, contents sloshing with his swishing about.<strong>"You keep doing this every time we go out. Ain't it getting old for ya?"</strong><br/><br/>A woman with a baseball cap snickered, grinning as she leaned forward a little, uncaring that her elbows were on the table.<strong>"Yeah, Meyolt,"</strong>she giggled, raising a brow,<strong>"You're too nice to us. What gives? Are you laying all of us off or something?"</strong><br/><br/>Meyolt couldn't stop himself from laughing, his head falling back as his body went with it. He had to set his cup down to be sure he didn't accidentally spill his drink on himself.<strong>"Wow, you have no faith!"</strong>he cackled.<strong>"I'm crushed! You all should know me!"</strong><br/><br/>Whilst the three -- and about fifteen others -- cackled along, splitting into conversation between one another, one young man kept to himself, phone in hand to check the time. Holding back the urge to yawn, he glanced over at the star of the show with disdain. His shoulders tensed, holding back a huff as he rolled his eyes. The guy's gleaming face was disgusting, to say the least, and worse yet<em>everyone</em>knew it wasn't a mask; that was legitimately him. God, for such a wise guy, he could come off as so stupid.<br/><br/>Thank god his old friend wasn't like that. Nah, he was a wise guy with some grit... some nice, sexy, cold grit.<br/><br/>Memories flooding his mind, the lad smirked, a hand coming up to cover his mouth in struggle to suppress a chuckle. Chocolate and vanilla hair did little to hide his pale skin and strawberry red eyes as something peculiar clicked in his head. Without warn, tuning out the world around him, he went to his social media messenger by his smart contraption, thumbs dancing about the technically nonexistent keyboard as his expression seemed to soften with text:<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"Hey, dude!"</span>he wrote.<span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"How are things going wi--"</span><br/><br/><strong>"Hello~"</strong>the girl from before whined, snapping her fingers in front of the secluded male's face.<strong>"Earth to J.P.. What's up with you, man?"</strong><br/><br/>The decorated albino flinched, head shooting up and gaze swiped from his typing to the girl -- a rather butch lass with a strawberry blonde pixie cut and grey eyes that were near like snow.<br/><br/>And he hated her guts.<br/><br/><strong>"E-er, uh... yeah,"</strong>he muttered, smile sheepishly growing as he pulled his neck into his body.<strong>"Sorry, I zoned out there for a moment. I wanted to write to a pal, but I, uh..."</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Is something wrong, Julie?"</strong><br/><br/>Goddammit, Meyolt...<br/><br/><strong>"N-no, sir,"</strong>Julie-Pierre replied, nervous as he cleared his throat.<strong>"I mean... I'm still a little shaken up from what happened with Rhonda and I yesterday, but I'll get over it..."</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Oh, no, don't say that!"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"Dude, you know we're here for you, right?"</strong><br/><br/><strong>"I still can't believe she did that..."</strong><br/><br/>And now they were off in a frenzy. Good. Now he could get back to talking.<br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: courier;">"Hey, dude! How are things going with you? You're still interested in a job, right? Cause one just opened up last night, and I think it's right up your alley!"</span>