Going to the bar every day with your bandmates with the excuse of drinking to listen to a beginning band is not an obsession---Or at least Izzy says it isn't.

These last few weeks he has been going to see you play with your band, since he liked music---And so have you. You sang very well, anyone could admit it, you moved well, you looked good, you made everything look good next to your voice.

Today was no exception, Izzy came to see you with her bandmates while she looked at you out of the corner of her eye. He watched you until you finished playing with your band and began to leave. And what did Izzy do? Exactly---He followed you. You were outside the bar quietly smoking a cigarette and he suddenly appeared behind you, trying to figure out how to start a conversation. You already knew who he was, since you were a fan of Izzy's band; Guns N' Roses. And also because he came to all the times you played.

--"You looked incredible there... Your voice is good."

He said in a cold and calm tone, he was mostly not a person of many words and his appearance said it. Although Izzy was dying of shame and fear inside.