Peter Bouman smiled in a very nervous fashion, looking at the array of lights in front of him, nearly blinding him. When he squinted, and turned a bit, he could see a massive audience watching him, their eyes focused directly on the large guitar wrapped around his neck. He coughed into his fist, nervously. He felt sick to his stomach; even he never understood why he had become such a huge success-- he was an impractical nervous wreck the second he stepped in front of a crowd. 'Oh, well,' he thought to himself, 'I guess they just can't tell.'

He feigned one last grin to the audience, before craning his neck downwards and strumming the guitar as a warm-up. One final cough, and he gripped the microphone a few feet from him. "Alright," he said to the audience, his bold and charismatic voice masked the nerves behind it. "This next song is going to be on my new album." He adjusted the mic, and paused for a moment of raucous applause from the audience, before playing the first few soft notes. He was playing a brand-new guitar, though it looked like a 50's red-and-white Fender. The way he played the guitar, it was clear he had learned by playing classical music, though quickly moved on to his own brand of soft-rock.

The gig was over soon enough, and he was escorted out, as a small horde of fans -- particularly teenage girls -- asked him for autographs. He mumbled a few words to them, and quickly scribbled, 'P.B.' on a handful of papers and pictures, before walking up the stairs to a small private room, and slamming the door shut. He collapsed on the armchair in his room, though he could still hear the crowd outside.

Peter inhaled quickly, nodding to himself, as he half-leapt off of the armchair, and opened the door. "Thanks, Frank." He quickly mumbled. He gestured to the interior of the room -- which was quite modestly decorated, for the so-called, 'rockstar.' He smiled to the two girls. "So, you must be the manager's daughter, right?" He asked Katie, and then turned to Ellie with a nod. "Uh, anyways. I'm Peter. But you, uh, alright knew that..." The nervousness that had vanished onstage had seemingly made a daring comeback.

"So, yeah. Here's where all the backstage passes get you..." He smiled and glanced around the room quickly. He'd been to so many over the last few performances, everything seemed to blur together.

"If you want anything signed, I've uh..." He walked over to a small counter in the room, fumbled behind the drawers, and then finally, triumphantly held up a pen. "I've got a pen. Other than that, you can ask me questions, or whatever." He continued. He felt like he was babbling on like a moron, which he more than likely was, but he was basing everything he'd said on previous experience with the V.I.P.'s at his concerts.

When he turned back to look at the girls one more time, his eyes seemed to linger on Ellie for a while longer, but he shook it off, nodding to himself as he waited for their reactions.

Peter set to the laborious task of signing each individual object Katie had brought. He smiled when Ellie asked. "Oh, luck, I guess." He looked up at her eyes for a moment, with a charismatic grin. "You know? I mean, I practice all the time..." He looked back down at the signatures, and continued to write while he spoke. "But, it always takes a lot of luck. A lot of luck." He reiterated, and finished off the last of the signatures.

He stood up, handing the objects back to Katie with a wink -- a trick his agent had told him to use -- and then turned back to Ellie, his head cocked ever so slightly. "I'm going to guess, by your friend here's description... that you don't have anything for me to sign?" He grinned, and folded his arms across his chest as he looked her over, his seemingly naive blue eyes betraying a very observant mind.

He grinned, and looked at his hand. "I'm sure it could handle one more signature." He looked to Ellie. "What'd you bring?" He seemed to grin even wider-- almost to the point where it could be classified as a, 'smile', when he saw her blush slightly. He rubbed his hands together, as he gave her a few more evaluative looks. She was an interesting girl, he had decided. Not like the regular fans. He turned, looking at Katie. Now, she was just like so many of the girls he'd grown used to meeting up with during his concerts.

"So," he asked Katie, not wanting to leave her void of his attention, from fear of a possible reprimand from the manager. "How long are you girls going to be able to stay?" He managed to pose the question in a, 'I-hope-you-can-stay-much-longer' type of way. Again, for the future benefit of his concerts at this stadium. He'd had so much of this marketing stuff branded into his mind by his agent, by salespeople, by everyone who wanted a piece of the 'Peter Bouman' phenomenon, that it was becoming almost instinct for him.

Peter smiled. "Of course not." He grabbed the pen, and very eloquently, took his time to write out a long signature on the CD-case. "This is an old one," he said with a grin, tapping the case with his index finger. "Some of my first stuff." He took an extra step towards Ellie to hand the case back to her. "You like it?"

He cast another, nonchalant glance over to Katie. He'd do his best to pretend he wasn't paying wholesomely more attention to Ellie, anyways. "Great," he continued his conversation with her from earlier. "So, what else would you girls like to do?" He asked, looking around the small room. He adjusted the edges of his jet-black T-shirt, as well as the top of his jeans. His clothes always came out messed-up after his performances. He glanced over to a mirror behind the counter quickly, realizing he may very well still be a bit sweaty and disheveled from the concert.

Peter smiled to Katie. "Sure." He said, and then walked behind the counter, with a bit of smirk; laughing inside at showing them around his small, private room. "So, uh, here's the kitchen. Snacks and stuff, you know. For after the shows. Gets you pretty hungry." He nodded. He took a few more steps, placing his hand on the back of the couch. "Here's where I spend most of the time after performances." He reached down, and grabbed the remote. He turned on a small, modest T.V. just a few feet from the couch. There was some recap-video of his concert playing, he switched it before the audio could even kick in, to a news channel. "Mostly I just relax in here, you know. In between gigs."

"So, yeah. That's it." He spoke to Katie, but his eyes drifted to Ellie from time to time. "But, I mean, your dad runs the place. I'm sure you know about the whole, stadium part. This is just my little corner."

"... Huh." Peter said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He nudged the couch with his foot a bit, and took a few steps towards Ellie, looking around awkwardly.

"So..." He mumbled, finally resigning from any proactive movements and sat on the couch. "You're Ellie, right?" He blinked a few times, clearly at a loss of words. "That's..." he looked upwards, clearly enraged with his own utter lack of charm and wit. "That's a pretty name." He settled on, a bit disappointed with himself. "So, Ellie. What do you do? What's your life like?" He asked, both putting the role of speaker onto her, and forcing himself to be involved in a conversation in which he was not the center of attention, for once.

Peter nodded when she spoke. He shifted his weight on the couch, and turned down the volume on the news channel he had left on. "Huh. Exciting. I guess that is how people on the outside look at it, right? I mean, we're supposed to be the 'rockstars'." He grinned, looking towards the door, half expecting Katie to walk back in. "But, you know. It's all about the money. Well, maybe not to the musicians, but to the people who set you up, you know."

He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong. Music's my passion, it's what I love to do. But, I wake up every morning knowing exactly what I'm going to do, too. Play guitar, sing, and sign autographs." He turned to look at Ellie.

Peter was about to speak, when Katie burst in. He grinned at her enthusiasm, and, when she was done, turned off the T.V., and faced both of the girls.

"Heheh. The paparazzi are fine, I'm used to them by now." He smiled. "Sure, we could go out somewhere," he continued, then turned to Katie in particular. "Did you have anywhere in mind? I mean, I don't even..." He trailed off, looking for a watch or a clock. "What time is it, anyways?" He shrugged finally, and waited for an answer from one of the two.

Peter questioned how much input he had into the answer, but grinned while he did so anyways. "I'd love to meet some of your friends..." He began, his eyes trailing off in a vain attempt to meet Ellie's. "Sounds like it'd be fun." He looked at Ellie's purse and cell-phone. "10:45, huh." He scratched the back of his head. "Whoa, am I out of it. Could be 8, to me. I swear, this town really just disorients a guy. Jet-lag or something..." He peered out the window. "You know, I've actually never seen much of this place, besides the room and the stadium. Think, maybe, after we meet your friends, you could show me some of the cooler places?" He looked towards Ellie, a hint of teasing in his voice, "Maybe the library?"