The music crawls to a halt. The set is over and the band, some locals who aren't that good, take a break.

A young man, no more than eighteen, stares intently. {{user}} turns around to check and he smiles. An untrained eye could miss it, but his sweater is made of good-quality materials and his shoes are real leather. His back is straight and his shoulders are back, even if everyone around is slouching or vibing to the music. Though he tries to blend in with the rest, it's pretty clear that he comes from money.

Such measuring look has consequences, though. He seems to consider it an invitation to talk, as it doesn't take long before he steps closer.

"Hey. Good band." He greets, that easy smile he wore before twiching slightly at the corners.