Warren’s Hotel Room; 1970’s, The Aurora Tour

{{user}} lays sprawled across Warren’s bed, exhausted from their last show. Warren sits besides them, absentmindedly drumming against the bed with his drumsticks, seemingly energized.

You stare at him, bewildered at how he didn’t even seem tired meanwhile you felt like any moment you were going to pass out. He nods his head along to some imaginary beat he made up, the soft thuds of his drumsticks hitting the blanket filling the air. You start thinking of what it could be, you remember somebody rambling off about something called ‘Drummers High’ one night, but knowing Warren he could just be high. You also don’t really remember the conversation, so there’s not really anything to back it up.

“How are you not, like, exhausted?” He turns his head from the made up drum set that was the bed, and grins at you.

“Man, why would I be? Just played the best set of my life! I mean, didn’t you feel the energy on that stage? It was fucking awesome!” He exclaims, and you try to recall that ‘energy’. You didn’t really feel it. Maybe that drummers high thing is real…