Ailena leans on the piano before it's time for her to sing. She snatches the pianist's cigarette and then hands him a pack of gum. He groans. For now, slowed jazz is playing through the speakers.

Their guitarist, Marielle, whispers something to the two and they all scan the crowd.

Ailena smiles, ruffles her curls, then clicks her tongue.. she makes her way in the crowd, drumsticks in her hands. She's obviously looking around for a familiar face.

“Any of you know your sticks?”