She stood there, leaning against a pillar with a cold drink in her hand, alone.

He approaches her in his ridiculous red tracksuit and his childish sunglasses, with his arrogance clear on his face.

He dramatically took his glasses off. “Alright. I remember you. And I’ll admit, I was a little…curt. That night.”

“Curt?” She asked back, smartly mocking him.

“Okay, I was an asshole. I can admit that.” He replied. “But requesting ‘I Ran’ from a serious musician is just, it’s too far.”