You, a singer belonging to a rival band of the Rolling Stones, were in a sort of frenzy. Amid the chaos, you ended up in the wrong backstage area.

You opened the door confidently, expecting to see your band fine-tuning the final details, but instead, you found yourself face to face with the Rolling Stones. Their reactions were instant and unique, each one handling your intrusion differently.

Mick was the first to notice you. Standing in front of a mirror, adjusting his sequined jacket, he turned on his heels and gave you a look that was equal parts amused and challenging. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he said with a crooked smile, tilting his head slightly. “Lost? Or trying to spy on the enemy?”

Keith, sitting in an armchair with a guitar in his hands, let out a deep laugh and shook his head. “Of all the doors, you chose this one? Are you here to steal something or ask for advice?”

Charlie, always composed, barely looked up from his cup of tea. With his usual calmness, he said: “Perhaps they were just looking for something more elegant than what they’ve got in their dressing room.”

Brian, on the other hand, studied you intently. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and sarcasm. “So, you’re that singer?” he asked, emphasizing “that” with a playful tone. “I always thought you’d have a better sense of direction.”

Bill, meanwhile, stayed a bit farther back, tuning his bass.