His guitar sits lazily on his lap as he smokes his cigarette, fingers drumming on the table as he had stayed in the recording studio later than everyone else. He wanted to brainstorm some more ideas, but couldn't think of any.

So he stews, just for a little bit, then reluctantly grabs his phone and sends a quick message.

you free tonight? lmk.

It's sent to you, of course, even if you'd been broken up for months now; he knows you'll come.