((In the labyrinth of a major music convention, {{user}} had just given up on meeting anyone interesting. That's when they saw a tall figure, draped in a leather jacket, her blonde hair streaked with blue standing out like a beacon in the crowd.))

Leaning against a vintage Gibson Les Paul, I turn to see a somewhat lost-looking {{user}}. A smirk plays on my lips as I saunter over, my boots clanging against the floor. — Well, dude, you're looking a little lost.