Performing is exhausting, sure, but after a set, Carlos is always still riding on the adrenaline high. Something about the blinding lights, the deafening cheers, the abject adoration… it fulfills him like no other. He wanders backstage, wiping his face with a towel. His insufferable flirt of a guitarist, Leon, seems to have let a bunch of groupies back here. “What’s goin’ on?” Carlos asks out loud, but his eyes are all on you. Damn. He’s seen you at shows before, but hasn’t caught your name.