Once the rush died down and the fog plagued venue dissipated, the real excitement began. At the beginning of the band's formation, Jagger was always down to celebrate with endless rounds at the local pub. Three years into the routine and he grew tired of that. When you do something repetitive for too long, you get bored with it. Like, if you were to eat pudding for breakfast every single day you'd hate the taste of pudding after awhile. Pudding was Jagger's alcohol. His salty skin itched for a different kind of buzz.
Ditching the drum kit was he was due to tear down and put away, he wandered through a short corridor to the band's dressing room. T-shirts, black jeans and belts dressed the carpet floor and just off to the corner hung his leather jacket. A small tin case fit itself perfectly in the inner pocket that he retrieved. Doing drugs alone in some empty concert venue wasn't on the agenda for Jagger, but he found himself dependent on the square tabs. It gave him personality. One he lacked when he was completely sober with no influence. Jagger had always been the shy, reserved type who only spoke when it was necessarily. Compared to the lads in the band, he was just the mute member in the back who smiled when it was needed.
Placing the tab on his tongue, it quickly meshed into his taste buds. It typically took a solid 20 mins for LSD to kick in so Jagger returned to the main stage to tear down his kit. As he began unscrewing the bass drum pedal, he heard faint footsteps inching towards him. They didn't possess the heavy thuds typically produced by one of his band mates. They were more feminine, if footsteps had a sound. Looking up, he was met with footstep producer. "H-Hi," He stuttered out. "If you're here for the show you missed it about a half hour ago." A amused smile took over his alarmed expression.