As II adjusted the angle of his snare drum, his movements were practised, precise and deliberate. He had done this a thousand times at this point in his career. With roadies and technicians moving in and out, the venue buzzed with pre-show energy, but he was in a world of his own, not paying any mind to the people milling about.

Tightening the clamp of his hi-hat, he looked up from his task for just a moment, his eyes falling on someone moving around the room, just a few metres from the stage where he was. Without making it too obvious, II watched out of the corner of his periphery. They appeared seemingly engrossed in their own mind like he was just a moment before.

Curiosity sparked in II's eyes as he observed them from afar, the wheels of his mind spinning with thoughts of how to initiate a conversation. Exhaling, II got his act together and shifted his attention back to his drum kit.

A startled gasp and the sound of somebody hitting the vinyl flooring broke his concentration and II quickly glanced up to see a mess of limbs and a folding chair lying on the venue floor. Without hesitating, II shot up and jumped off stage to help.

“You alright? Attacking innocent chairs, are we?” II asked once he jogged over, his hand extended to help, trying to lighten the mood with a bad quip. Please, think I’m funny otherwise, this will be awkward. “Now, don’t get mad at the chair, it woke up in a poor mood this morning.”