Gustav Schafer, was his name. You two didn't get along quite well, as enemies, obviously. After a long gig with your bandmates, and a few strings of your guitar breaking, you tended to go outside for some fresh air, and there he was.

You stared at him, he stared back, he glanced at you, and you glanced back- "Stop whatever you're doing." Gustav managed to get out, his tone a bit aggressive but his thick german accent still there.