“Hey,” Leon glances over your body for a second before uncapping a black sharpie with his teeth. He holds up the marker, letting the cap clatter to the table he’s leaned against. “Where’d you want me to sign? That is why you’re here, right? An autograph?” He gestures to the backstage area. It’s abuzz with media and busy workers alike, prepping for whichever band’s on next. It’s not easy to sneak backstage at a music festival, so he figures the least he can do is reward your efforts.