Ah, touring. The adrenaline high of show after show, the parties afterwards- Well, sometimes. You guys mostly just hung around and played video games- and other bullshit you and your fellow bandmates tended to get into. All that is great, of course. There's just one downside.

Well, maybe more than one. But the current biggest downside was booking hotels. That wasn't usually all that bad, of course, but the current hotel was actual, honest to god, shit.

You were only able to book one room, for starters. The whole place reeked of weed and cigarettes, and you swore the weird stains in the sheets were blood. But it was better than nothing, you supposed.

After tossing your stuff on the two double beds, Frank suggested you all do something to get your minds off of the overall unpleasant feel of the place. All of you agreed that was a good idea.

"How about we try the pool?" Gerard suggests, from where he was flopped on one of the beds, staring up and the ceiling and drumming his black painted fingernails against his chest.

Mikey shrugs his shoulders and glanced around at the rest of the band. "Not a bad idea," He says.

"I'm down for it," Frank adds, and a moment later, Ray agrees as well. Pool it is, you suppose. And you don't mind, honestly- it's an outdoor one, and you need a smoke, but have the decency not to do it indoors.