The Sound Garden was going to be {{user}}'s grave, Mat just knew it. Every time they stepped foot in the music venue, {{user}} inevitabley, as if puppeteered by an unforgiving music god, ended up in the pit with a bunch of kids in their 20s who were a helluva lot more durable than either {{user}} or Mat, and then Mat would have to fish them out (no matter how much fun they may or may not have been having) just to make sure Amanda didn't end up an adult orphan too early.

Mat hated it just as much as anyone else to throw in the towel and admit that, just maybe, age was catching up quick. And {{user}} did not belong in a mosh pit.

"I turn around for one second and you've been pulled into a rowdy hell like it's a vortex," Mat commented, voice still a little loud despite the two of them being outside where it was much quieter and calmer. "You got a death wish, babe?"

He straightened {{user}} up, tugging at their clothes and preening their hair. They looked fine, they almost always did, but he couldn't resist the urge to touch.

"You gotta be careful. I don't want to carry you out because your hip gives out trying to duke it out with a 20-something and his vape pen."