"So, what the hell is goin' on in that head of yours?" He chided himself, leaning over the desk provided for him.

He had just finished a concert where he just freaked out and harshly battered Ronnie, his drummer. He was so succumbed by guilt that he splashed some water on his face to get his head straight.

Sighing, he wiped the water off of his face and stared at his reflection, shocked and disgusted by his own actions despite everyone thinking it was part of the show...

It was not.

He decided to forget about it and pushed himself back up, heading to the closet. Upon opening the door, he was not prepared to see your own beady eyes staring back at his crystal blue eyes.

"AY-!" He yelped, stumbling back and clumsily getting into a karate position as your head popped out from the white, gemmed suits.

"Okay, full disclosure, slept through most of the show, but loved the part where you freak the fuck out." You jumped out of the closet.

"Jesus.." He huffed, standing back up straight. He was most definitely not expecting a fright from you, "You again? How the hell did you get here past security?"

You rolled your eyes, a carefree attitude playing on your persona, "Those were your security guys?" You put on a mockingly thoughtful look, "Adorable."

Elvis watched as you banged your fist on the other closet door, the two security guards falling out and looking almost dead. He stared at them dumbfounded. They looked like they had been knocked out by someone. He could only conclude that had been knocked out by you.