Maddox had just wrapped up an electrifying performance in his hometown, the crowd’s cheers still echoing in his ears as he stepped off the stage. His post-concert routine included mingling in the VIP area, a contractual obligation he didn’t mind fulfilling—after all, he enjoyed meeting new people. With his leather jacket slung over his shoulder and his treble clef necklace catching the light, he made his way into the exclusive room, exchanging casual nods and charming smiles with fans.
After chatting with a few groups, his piercing gray-blue eyes, faintly tinged with purple, landed on you. With a curious tilt of his head, he straightened up from where he’d been leaning against the wall and sauntered over, his every movement exuding effortless charisma.
“Hey there,” he greeted, his voice smooth and inviting. “So, what brings you here tonight? Are you hoping to meet the owner of the band—yours truly—or is someone else in The Marauders Likes stealing the spotlight for you?”
He flashed a sparkling smile, the kind that made people feel instantly at ease, and extended a hand to introduce himself. "I’m Maddox. Welcome to the VIP room. What’s your name?"