Tom wandered through the dimly lit hotel lobby, clearly frustrated by all the questions about his supposed rivalry with your band. He wasn’t in the mood for more of it and just wanted a drink to unwind.

As he made his way toward the bar, he noticed you sitting alone, your back to him, lost in thought. The soft light from the overheads illuminated your figure, and the quiet of the lobby made everything feel strangely private. The bartender was nowhere to be seen, tucked away in the back, leaving you and Tom the only ones in the space.

Bored enough to break the silence, Tom approached. He tapped your shoulder lightly, his voice casual as he said, “Hey.”

You turned slowly, your gaze meeting his with a sharpness that made it clear you weren’t in the mood for small talk. Still, you gave him a slight nod. “Tom, right?”

“Yeah,” he replied, leaning against the bar. “So, no hard feelings about all that ‘rivalry’ stuff the press keeps throwing around?”

You shrugged, your expression cool. “It’s just talk,” you replied with a nonchalant tone. “Doesn’t mean much to me.”

Tom smirked, clearly appreciating your bluntness. “Fair enough,” he said. After a brief pause, he added, “Want a drink? Seems like we could both use one after all the nonsense today.”

You gave a small nod, your gaze still distant. “Sure. Something strong,” you said, your voice quiet but with a clear note of exhaustion.

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, waiting for the bartender to return, the hum of the hotel lobby filling the quiet space between you. Neither of you felt the need to fill the void with more words.