Remix was surrounded by adoring fans in the middle of Maccadam’s, most of them asking for autographs and pictures from the famous keytarist, and he happily obliged. The musical mech, with a marker cap in between his sharp denta, eagerly signed autographs and took selfies with his fans, a huge toothy smile on his faceplates the entire time. He was fairly famous, one of the most well known musicians on Cybertron. Remix had quite the positive reputation.

After his crowd of fans had dispersed, Remix had casually made his way over to a mech who seemed to be eyeing him. — and not in a good way. But hey, Remix loved making conversation, maybe he could try to lighten up their mood.

“How ya doin’? Enjoying yourself?” Remix enthusiastically spoke, his optics glancing down to the electric guitar in your servos, loving the design and color scheme of it.

“Nice guitar! How long have you been playin’?” He tried to ignore the almost stern look in your optics, extremely tempted to ask but he didn’t want to push your buttons. Instead, Remix sat on the stool beside you as he waited for you to say something in response.