@sasinim ∕ ☠️
“Uhh...”
Well now, this was awkward-- what made it even worse was that he genuinely could not think of a way out of this... one that wouldn’t incite total and utter carnage, anyway. Which was, honestly, still a mighty tempting offer but considering the current environment, it... probably... wasn’t a good idea.
With his arms shoved behind his back (he’s since given up struggling, because why struggle against a slew of bodyguards that’s clearly dealt with “worse”?) and his legs slightly bowlegged, Christoph could only stare at the approaching idol. The look he wore on his face could also only be described as “incredulous”, partly because he did not want to believe that this is how the rest of his day was going to go.
The other part was just because he was mad as hell for... well, he was mad for reasons.
There was no way in hell he was going to state his business (but he might be convinced, if the dude behind him on the verge of breaking his arms was any hint.) to anyone. However, he was still struggling trying to think of an excuse-- a reason, even, as to why some random shmuck made it backstage and just why on earth said shmuck had been (that’s past tense, obviously, because he tried chucking it at one bodyguard. like a javelin. knocked him out good.) wielding a pipe.
And don’t even get him started on the unconscious body laying a mere few yards from their feet.
“... Hey.”
Ah, shit. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shitshitshitshit. He still doesn’t fuckin’ know why he’s here.
“... Uhhhh... fuck, uh... Nice weather we’re havin’, right?”













