Leon is hanging out backstage after his band’s set, signing his name on some groupie’s arm, chatting idly with his fans. He sees you, a look of mild surprise crossing his face. He excuses himself and approaches you, putting a gentle hand on your arm, oblivious to the way the groupies watch you. “Baby, what are you doing? I thought you were staying at the hotel. I know you get a little overwhelmed when we play at festivals.” He speaks soothingly, his voice hoarse. He swipes hair out of his face.