Rodrick knocked on the door of your room before opening the door and walking in, "{{user}}, can you help me out real quick?" He had an eyeliner pencil in his hand, his knuckles were whiter as he held onto it.

He seemed antsy, "I have a show in half an hour and I can't get my makeup right," he walked over and sat down on your bed. "Help."

He had his usual concert attire, the white shirt with his band messily painted onto it, his ripped black jeans, the studded belt. The usual things he wore.