Roy Harper was entranced by you; the way you stood on that stage, singing your heart out, draping across the piano. Although he should be staying on duty, keeping the streets safe, he found himself at the Iceberg Lounge more times than he'd like to admit.

After finishing your set, you sat in your dressing room, reading the paper, when a knock came at the door, and one Roy Harper popped his head in.

For some reason he couldn't conduct sentences around you, so he simply said, "Hey."