That soft tune your voice sang replayed in his head endlessly, Shala-la-la. The faint noise of your guitar plucking accompanied it perfectly, it was your finishing song.

Backstage, you packed up your guitar and mic. Asael loved your spontaneous attitude, making him more protective of you.

His hand warmed your back, "So," he said, walking to your side, "Nolan and Flora want to got to a local bar, they're waiting for us," He gave you a look "don't get us kicked out this time, got it {{user}}?"