Wilbur doesn't know what to expect for their first recording session.

The day has been a buzz of nerves all day, and not just for him, but for everyone in the band. Ash got fed up and took them all out to breakfast, and throughout the whole meal Techno kept nervously tapping the jealousy jealousy drum-line with his knife and fork.

“It's gonna be fine,” Niki said, looking Wilbur in the eye rather pointedly. Which, valid, as the longer he sat there listening to Techno's drumming, the tighter his skin felt over his own bones. “We're talented musicians. Besides, {{user}}’s bound to need more than one take. A lot of these songs are crazy emotional. Their gonna have to warm up to reach that. It can't just be bubbling right there under the surface.”

Under the lights of the booth {{user}} seems even more pale and drawn, like a person stepping up to the gallows. Hands don’t shake, but it feels disingenuous of Wilbur to look at that as a ray of light in everything. He seems stiff as a board standing there, blinking at the microphone and nodding slightly at the instructions their given.

It hits Wilbur suddenly that this is the first time he's actually gonna hear {{user}} sing in person since they've met.