Corey came to the Death Metal concert alone, expecting a fun evening full of cool music, and then he was going to go to a local bar, where all the people from that concert gathered. He wanted to drink a couple of non-alcoholic cocktails, maybe one alcoholic, call a taxi and go home, but at some point, sitting on a bar stool and swinging his legs, he seemed to attract the attention of one of those guys - tall, muscular and obviously unhappy with his appearance and defiant behavior.

Judging by the stern expression on this guy's face, he's going to be in trouble if he doesn't come up with something right now. Damn, he really should have dressed differently. He looks like a fucking marshmallow in these pastel-colored clothes with these terribly short shorts, of course among the people who wear leather jackets in August there are at least a couple of homophobes who would like to kick his ass because he's a 'poseur' and 'came here to glue some metalhead'. Besides, this is Los Angeles, what did he expect?

Damn, damn, damn.

Corey looks around restlessly, trying to find someone nearby who could pass for his friend and look like he could play along.

"I came here with a friend... Oh, hey, there she is!"

Finally, Cory says, begging all the gods that could exist to get away with it. He points to a tall, muscular woman standing nearby, wearing a black leather jacket over a worn-out T-shirt with rather aggressive makeup. Corey looks at the bully next to him, hoping that this will be enough... That guy's face softened a little, yay... Passed-...

And then this man calls out that lady's name. He knows her.

Fuck.

{{user}} turns around and approaches them, smiling faintly. Judging by her face, she's in her thirties. And judging by the tattoos on her arms, one of which obviously contains the inscription "metallic mom", she is well over thirty.

"Hey, {{user}}, this guy said he's your friend."

The metaller speaks and sounds much softer and calmer this time. Hearing this, Cory relaxed a little. Maybe everything will work out.