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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 21, 2013 6:16:29 GMT
With his hands in his pockets, Lance walked down the sidewalk, taking himself a little stroll.
And when "little stroll" is said, what it actually meant was that he was pissed off at his guitarist for being a little bitch and he needed a break. It never failed that he would end up disagreeing with the little twit. The guy played like he was strumming with a stick, not to mention it was throwing Lance off beat.
He let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at the ground, counting the cracks in the concrete as he walked, seeing how he had no real destination. His raven locks hung in his eyes as he drooped his head down, noting how shiny the toes of his shoes looked when he wasn't counting the cracks on the sidewalk or how many steps it took to get from the side of that building to the next fire hydrant along the way.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2013 2:05:31 GMT
you're crashing but you're no wave Leaving her house to get to the studio was one kind of mission. Leaving the studio to go to the convenience store down the street was a mission with a ranking of six stars that was only assigned to the most trained and most professional of agents. Rhea decided she was neither. She walked as fast as she could down the sidewalk with her bass in it's bag on her back. She swore that the paparazzi were all fucking ninjas in their previous lives. She doesn't know how they do it, but she's sure she doesn't want to fucking know. She glanced over her shoulder, checking for paparazzi and released a sigh of relief when she saw they were there.. As soon as she turned to look forward, though, she found that she had walked herself into a person. She stumbled a few steps back before managing to catch herself. Her hands instantly flew to the bass on her back to make sure it was still there and still in one piece. Once she figured it was, she turned back to the man. "Sorry." She says. [newclass=.nantags]text-align: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a:hover]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass] |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 22, 2013 6:19:35 GMT
He didn't say it was okay, he didn't yell at her. He didn't really say anything at all for a few moments. At first he was irritated, seeing how he was run into by the girl. He'd even tried to step out of her way because he just didn't feel like getting run into. He just wasn't in the mood for putting up with bullshit, air-headed people.
"Better watch where you're going. You're gonna piss off someone like that. Like me," Lance replied in a rather monotonous voice.
Belatedly, he noticed the instrument strapped to her back and he perked a brow at her, letting out a sigh. Another musician. Seemed like he was running into a lot of them, which was strange. Though, at the same time, he did work in the area. So really, he shouldn't have been so surprised. Perhaps it was coincidence.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2013 0:43:41 GMT
you're crashing but you're no wave "Why should I worry about bugs?" Rhea asks. Usually, she keeps comments like that to herself, but her temper has been shortened by the 'razzi chasing after her and she isn't quite sure if she likes this guy's attitude either. She doesn't apologize though, no regrets after all. The only thing she regrets is leaving the studio, and that's the only when she hears the sound of feet against pavement moving a little too fast for an ordinary pedestrian. She glances over her shoulder and catches sight of a camera and that's all she needs to see before she starts walking. As she walks past, she reaches out and attempts to grab this man by his arm. Hell no is she going to take any chances by letting this guy get bombarded by 'razzi. [newclass=.nantags]text-align: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a:hover]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass] |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 23, 2013 1:00:02 GMT
He'd only managed a condescending laugh before his arm was pulled and he was whipped around to follow this girl. Who did she think she was?
About that time, he glanced over his shoulder to see what it was that she was so eager to get away from when he saw them.
Paparazzi.
Quickly, he glanced over at the girl again to get a better look at her. Why would paparazzi care about some little punk like--
No fucking way. Was the universe just out to torture him?
He hadn't really noticed it before, seeing how he didn't really care, nor was he paying all that much attention to the girl, but this girl was looking painfully familiar the more he looked at her and he didn't like it.
"Who the fuck are you?"Lance asked, wanting to hear it from her own mouth before he jumped to any conclusions. He definitely wasn't going to act like some kind of head-over-heels fan and accuse her of being someone that she very well could not be.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2013 1:06:39 GMT
you're crashing but you're no wave Rhea heard his question, but she didn't act like she did. She ducked into the building and pulled the guy along with her. Turns out she had pulled them into a cafe of some sort or something, she wasn't really in the mood to figure out what. She continued to pull him towards the booth the furthest away from the door. She only let go of him when she sat down. She gestured to the seat across from her, though she didn't expect him to sit down. She figures now is a good time to answer his question from before. "I am an on the run criminal who looking to not get featured in the newspaper's next article." She says. Rhea doesn't believe he'll buy it, but maybe it'll get him to sit down so she can actually tell him who she is. [newclass=.nantags]text-align: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a:hover]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass] |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 23, 2013 1:16:51 GMT
Lance just sort of stared at her for a while before narrowing his eyes and contemplating sitting down.
"I know who you are," he replied, still looking at her through displeased eyes. "And quite frankly I don't feel like sitting down with the likes of you. Maybe i'll just take a step outside this cafe and call those paparazzi in here for a few interviews? I bet they'll absolutely grow ecstatic at the chance."
There was jealousy and hate coating every word that came out of his mouth and he was just seconds away from doing exactly what it was he threatened to do. He would stop, however, if she gave a good enough reason for him not to expose her little hiding place. What difference did it make to him? He could just slip out if he wanted to. They wouldn't give a single shit about Lance.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2013 1:48:38 GMT
you're crashing but you're no wave Rhea rolls her eyes and props up her arm on the table to rest her chin in the palm of her hand. She isn't stupid, she can hear how every word rolls off his tongue, but she can't find the reason for it in the slightest. "What do you want to keep quiet until the paparazzi are gone?" She asks. She doesn't know what she may have done - or maybe someone in the band may have done - but she's can't deny the fact she's a little curious to find out what this guy's deal is. [newclass=.nantags]text-align: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a:hover]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass] |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 23, 2013 3:23:13 GMT
Mmm... she looked worn out and tired and that alone helped to boost Lance's mood. With that, he sat down across from her and rested his arms against the table, crossing them.
"Nah, I don't think so. You have to think of something on your own and I'll tell you if it's good enough or not. Do that, and I won't tell the paparazzi all about you. I have connections and i can fucking ruin your stay here," the raven continued on, looking far too pleased with himself. His demeanor was cool yet threatening and though the bit about him having connections was him talking out his ass, he wouldn't let it show on his face.
Speaking of which, "What are you doing here anyway. Why aren't you traveling and doing concerts in Moscow or wherever it is the last place you guys went and did a giant show. Honestly, I haven't been keeping track."
Which was true. The only reason why he even remembered what people were in the bad nowadays was because the media loved to spread it all over magazines, televisions, and the internet. It was enough to make him sick. Right there. In that cafe. On that very table.
He didn't.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 23, 2013 3:57:01 GMT
you're crashing but you're no wave Rhea shrugs, "I can someone to pin down Salem and you can punch him as many times as you want?"Rhea says it half jokingly, though it wouldn't make a difference to her if he actually went along with those terms. Salem needs a good punch in the face sometimes. "Or I could get you into the studio, hook you up with an audition if your some sort of musician?" Rhea has no idea what this guy wants, so at this point she's spewing random offers. "I'm here 'cause manager told me to be." She says. "I think Salem ran off and we were forced to chase him or something, dunno, don't care."[newclass=.nantags]text-align: right; margin-bottom: 5px; margin-top: 5px;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass][newclass=.nantags a:hover]background: #0e3375; padding: 5px; color: #dedede; font: 10px courier new; text-transform: uppercase;[/newclass] |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 23, 2013 4:22:13 GMT
Actually, now that she mentioned it, all of those choices seemed like good ones.
To know where Salem lived now would've been a goldmine and the thought of getting into the studio was enough to make his head spin, though he wasn't sure how to accept that offer without looking desperate, needy, and like a tool. He definitely didn't want that.
"Tell me where Salem lives here. I used to be a friend of his--and don't fucking start with the weird looks. I was with him when the band first started--fresh out of high school. Man, everything was fucking red-rose goggles and awesome sounds. Heh, but of course when we were offered a label, the company wanted us to change for them. I wasn't afraid to tell them straight up to kiss my ass, did it all with a smile. Thought everyone else was going to join in, but no. They didn't have any problems with it, he rambled on, feeling like he had to justify his reasons.
Really though, why did he feel like he had to? To keep himself from looking like some kind of rabid fan he assumed. Lance didn't want to be lumped together with those idiots. That hurt his pride more than rambling on to not only someone he didn't personally know, but to someone who was in the band he used to be in.
He let out a chuckle and glanced over to the side to think on things for a moment, not wanting to start getting too close to the girl.
Then, as he was pondering, he remembered what she said about Salem running off and that sparked a curiosity. "He ran off?"
Lance seemed bewildered at that confession and slowly, a crooked grin started to pull at the corners of his lips. Salem ran off. He ran away. Something deep inside him bothered him enough to make him skip country and hide. That's what he was doing. He was hiding.
"Aheheheheheheheh... that little chicken shit," was all he had to say after that.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 25, 2013 1:39:03 GMT
Rhea zones out about a quarter way through his rambling. She really isn't interested in what he has to say, the moment he said he was a former friend of Salem it clicked that he was probably an old band member. She knew those were common, the band has long list of former bandmates Rhea never cared to read up on.
"I have no fuckin' clue where Salem crashes, but if I find out I'll give you a call." She says.
She smiles a bit, chicken shit. It's nice to meet someone - outside the band - who insults Salem. Sure, she's okay with him most days, but with his attitude, Rhea still feels like he deserves more shit than he gets.
"He's some kinda diva, that's for sure. His ego could probably fill every stage I've ever performed with him." She says.
"He needs a good kick to the dick and a reality check. Someone should just rally up all the Salem haters and train birds to shit on his head every time he's on stage. I'm sure he'd love that."
Rhea can practically picture it in her mind. She'd, of course, probably get shit on too, but she doesn't care for her appearance as much as Salem cares for just his hair. She thinks it'd be fuckin' hilarious for that to happen really.
Maybe she should give someone a call and make it happen.
LANCE DAVIDSON, idk wtf i'm typin |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 25, 2013 4:05:53 GMT
"He's gotten worse," the frontman managed to say, gazing off to the side as he silently starts to think back on his high school days. He tried to keep those memories out of his mind for the better, but it was a little difficult at the time. "Money always goes to the head.
He was sounding scornful again, but he didn't care.
Upon hearing the musician smack talk his used to be best friend made him a mixture of upset and amused. Upset because he felt that only he could bad mouth Salem, but he knew that didn't matter anymore so he pushed the feelings away. Amused because god damn was that thought ever funny as hell.
"Can you imagine him there on stage? Suddenly screaming in a fury and tripping over cables to get out of the way of the birds? Holy fuck, I'd pay good money to see that, just to spite him," Lance commented, his grin returning to his face, lopsided as per usual. "You know... you're not half bad. To be honest, I hate every single one of you for my own selfish reasons, but you're not too bad. Got yourself a sense of humor."
He felt odd, getting along with Rhea like he was. Again, he'd just stated that he hated them all and the fact that he could sit there and actually tolerate Rhea bothered him more than he'd like to admit.
Seemed like he still had a bit of getting over things to deal with.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 26, 2013 1:09:01 GMT
"I think more than just money has gone to his head." She says. His head is probably made up of mostly ego and inflation from the comments and screaming fangirls he's ever met in his career. Not that he doesn't deserve them, but she's sure he isn't doing this whole "Stay humble" thing correctly. Rhea has no intention of letting any fame she gets go to her head, she doesn't want to end up like Salem. She doesn't want to end up a long-haired asshole basically. Long hair is such a hassle. "I could see that being one of our more popular gigs, and I don't even care if I get shit on in the process, it'd be fuckin' hilarious." Rhea raises an eyebrow at him. "My sense of humor is what carries me through my career, without it I'd still be playing open mics and on the street.""You're not half bad yourself either, for, y'know, a former band-mate of the Salem Bauer. Not as spiteful as some of the people I've seen." LANCE DAVIDSON |
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Post by LANCE DAVIDSON on Oct 26, 2013 3:25:06 GMT
He nodded along, agreeing with her as she continued to talk about what was wrong with this new, Rockstar Salem.
To be honest, he'd always been more of a jerk compared to other people, though that was always the case. You were either nice in someone's eyes, or you were a douche. Lance never cared for the most part. They would butt heads, sure. What friends didn't butt heads every once in a while? But it would smooth over sooner or later.
Though the day Lance walked out was the day it never did get better again. He thought his friends would agree with him; thought they would care more about their pride than a label, but naw. Of course they wouldn't. They were going to make it big and get rich. That's what mattered. They would earn their pride back, right?
"I was there when we first made the band.... Dunno why I walked out in the first place," Lance finally spoke up, adding on to what it was Rhea was talking about. "To think, I could be up there right now with them if I hadn't," is what he wanted to add on, but he kept his mouth shut. He was smiling again at more mention of the birds, but it faded just as fast when Salem was continued to be talked about.
So you think my personality is what's keeping me from hitting it big?" He couldn't help but ask, that smirk coming back just a little as he spoke the question.
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