First world tour. A big thing for him, the band. It's huge. It hits him only now, a few minutes before they have to perform in the epicentre of fashion - Paris.

"Ten more minutes!" He hears their assistant call out. His arms are standing still, no visible stress radiating off him.

"So no liner for me?" Damiano amuses, standing in the doorframe. His tattooed skin on full display, no shirt in sight. A cigarette dangles between his teeth. He watches {{user}} make sure Vic's make-up is perfect.