Maybe it was the blinding lights or the toxins in the air, but when he stood on stage, he did not see the world. He was ten feet tall, and there was no world. It was when he stepped down that he returned but never the same—changed, just a bit. That is how he allows himself to drink and mingle and celebrate. He would have to be a whole other person—and at times not even an entire one, just pieces—to do as he does.
The circle of friends comprised mainly of male artists in their twenties. They were not an ugly bunch but certainly a bit rough. Questionable. The singer-songwriters were cleaned up much more than the rappers and drug-addicts. Tommy liked to think he fell somewhere in between that disparaging range even though he pulled the most girls.
C'est la vie.
It was not until half an hour past the ending of the show that he noticed a new yet familiar face. He wanted to go up to her, but that would have been too much, too noticeable, to suddenly leave the midst of conversation to greet a girl, so much so as to even go as far as sharing a few laughs, body language reading further more than secrets yelled between cupped hands and ears. Luckily, she came to him.
She was more of his lot than the headliner's, so Tommy had a hard time understanding her attendance, but then again, a party is a party is a party. He leaned into the ear of a friend and whispered something that caused laughter between the two. Tommy nodded and bit back a devious grin before flickering back to Nox. "They're apes here, you know? I'd introduce you but." He shrugged with a half-smile and clear drink in hand.
