God, was he a poser. His band had dragged him to a scene he never imagined himself at a metal show. A punk.. at a metal show.

And he'd convinced himself he found the love of his life on that tiny stage. A bassist, a girl.. Fingers bleeding from the force she was playing - splattered across her white fret board. You.

He had to talk to you. So as he sees you dismount the stage, licking the blood of your fingers.

"You're pretty punk." His tone is low, scanning you up and down as he puffs his cigarette. "For a metalhead."