A mass of pink shifted just enough to chuck a pillow at the alarm clock as it blared its tune. Groaning when it didn't silence the device, the tangle of pink somehow untangled itself from the mound of blankets and stumble over to the clock. Hitting the off button, Vanille sleepily headed to her suitcase, which was shoved in a corner. Maneuvering around her friends, she knelt by her bag and dug through it, pulling out the first outfit she could find. Getting back up, she disappeared into the bathroom, seeing that the door was open. Locking the doors behind her, she quickly showered and changed. Heading back out into the girl's room, Vanille ran a hand through her wet hair.

"Time to get up, everyone!" she called to her band mates. "Only got a couple hours of tourist-time before our show tonight!" she was practically bouncing with excitement at the idea of being out on stage in front of so many people.

Stix’s form was somehow snuggled beneath the sheets on the massive bed in the hotel room and tucked away in the far corner. It was a surprise that she didn’t feel claustrophobic in there since there was at least one other body somewhere else on the bed but then again, she hadn’t exactly cared where she ended up last night when they all collapsed. The bus ride had been torture.

She ignored the blaring alarm, sleeping right through the annoying chirping and only stirred from her bed as Vani’s voice rang out, signaling that it was indeed time to roll. Shower…. she suddenly thought to herself as she pushed her way over and passed anyone and everything else in the bed as she clambered onto the floor, dashing across the room like a madwoman in an attempt to get to the unisex bathroom first. Instead of rifling through her pack for clothing, she simply snatched it up and took it in with her so she wouldn’t lose precious time.

“WIN!” she yelled loudly as she slammed the door and locked it with a laugh. Stix was quick though and within 10 minutes she was back out and dressed. A black tank top and jeans fit her pale frame and she tossed her bag back onto the ground before wandering around the room in an effort to find her combat boots which she had worn the day before. If they were going to go traipsing around town, she wanted something a bit sturdier than flipflops.

What is love? Baby don't hurt me, don't hurt me, no more...What is love?

As his favorite song played, visions of his past danced in his head, filling Woodstock with sorrow and grief. He felt his scars burned, reliving each Story that hid behind them. Whips, hunger, yardsticks, rocks...knifes, fireworks, gunshots...the images and pain began to mesh, creating a monstrosity of Sorrow...

What is love...love...love...?

His eyes slowly opened as the song stopped. He had awoken. He took the earphones that covered his ears, turning off the iPod in his pocket. He yawned.

Good morning, bandmates.

Of course, no one heard his mental call of good biddings, which was fine for him. He looked to the males that shared the large bed. He sighed with jealousy. He never got the bed...it was the corner for him. Just like in his old life. He gave another sigh, taking a swig of the bottle of Jack Daniels next to him. Just to take the edge off. He coughed as the burning alcohol tried to go down his windpipe. Damn...hurts so good. standing, making his way to the bathroom. He was not slow for the shower, only steady. He did not rush, nor did he laze. Twenty minutes. That was all. Brushed his teeth, bathed himself, did his business, got dressed. Twenty minutes. Any less, he would not be prepared. Any more, and the others would be mad at him.

As he walked back into the all-male room, his stomach gave a grumble. Gah, alcohol equals not good with empty stomach... He swiftly made his way out of the room to a vending machine in the hall. He looked at his selections for a moment, then pulled a paper clip out from his pocket.His nimble fingers bent the clip into a wavy pattern, then stuck the metal into the lock of the glass door, jiggling the metal around until the lock was released. He opened the door with a smile, grabbing packets of assorted candies, shoving them into his pockets. Seven packets. He closed the door, relocating it, then did the same with the drinks. Three bottles. Close, click.

He was going to return to the room, but thought that it would be more enjoyable to be left alone. He stayed by the machines. Machines...his only friends.

Sadly, Stix wasn't the type to leave people alone and since she had wandered out into the hallway to find something to snack on until everyone else got their lazy asses out of bed, she stumbled upon Woodstock.

"WOODIE!" It was a horrible nickname but it had stuck for some reason a short while after they had met each other. Their first encounter had actually been at a party hosted by a friend of a friend of a friend of an acquaintance of the DJ's and she had found him chilling in a corner, beatboxing and had been intrigued. They had shared a joint while she babbled incessantly before mellowing out and... Well... Then she had tried to make out with him but that hadn't gone so well and they had parted ways quite awkwardly but that was a different story.

They had reconnected several other times because of their mutual infatuation with music and things seemed to have cleared up between them. He obviously had a lot going on in that silent head of his but she talked enough for the both of them so it was cool.

"Give!" she held out her hand, flexing her fingers inward in a 'Gimme' motion towards him as she spotted the packet of poptarts that he had grabbed from the vending machine. "I am so hungry I could eat a horse. You know what sounds good right now?! Frickin' iHop. Some of those crepe thing with the berries? Ohmygodfreakingdelicious."

Without regard for personal space, she slid down the wall to sit beside him and folded her legs up underneath of her. "Are you excited for the show tonight?!"

Woodstock smiled at the enthusiastic Stix. He normally was not one to enjoy intruded privacy, but Stix was different. She was a friend. She understood him. Even though she had induced his rotten past back to his memory all that time ago, that was in the past. Scratch that...machines and Stix are my only friends. He reluctantly gave her one of the packets of pop tarts. He smiled at her love of iHop, describing the delicious crepes that no one could deny. He licked his lips. Mmm...pancakes...

He gave nod to her question. No duh. He gave her a look of excited nervousness. A little nervous, though... He then remembered his nightmares of the night...the ones that alluded him from sleep a many a night. He hugged his knees, his face falling grim. ...and a little scared. What if the demons of his past had come to take him away from the rising glory of the DJ? Shaking his head, he pulled a flask from a side pocket of his cargo shorts, taking a large swig. Moonshine. He sighed, placing his head against the wall. C'mon, baby, make it hurt so good... He looked to Stix, offering the silver flask. Drink?

Stix watched Woodie's face as she knew that was where she'd get her answer from. He never talked, even around her but the range of expressions that crossed his face in the brief moments after she asked her question were all she needed to hearsee. Accepting the poptart with one hand, she looped her arm around Woodie's shoulders, practically forcing him to lean against her side as she worried over him.

"What happened? Did you have nightmares again?" A frown curved her lips and she laid the poptart pack on the ground in front of her so she could accept the flask, taking a quick nip before handing it back to him. "Don't you worry though, Woodie because we're going to be a-fuckin'-mazing. Look how quickly we got that record deal! Someone must have some faith in us, right?" Her hand that was currently resting on his shoulder moved upwards to ruffle his spiky black hair.

"Besides, just think! We get to play tourist before we even hit the stage. Did ya know this is my first time here?!"

Mocha was having a nightmare and was so caught up in her dream that she hadn't heard the alarm or her bandmates saying it was time to get up. When she finally did escape the horrid dream, she sat up on her bed almost instantly and yelled. "I hate freaking yellow- spotted purple snakes holding baby rattles!" she vented before returning to a relaxed mode realising she was finally awake. She stretched her arms behind her head then rolled off the bed till her feet touched the floor.
She picked up the alarm clock then stared at her bandmate Vanille. "Did you set this thing up? It totally didn't wake me.." she said wearing a pout thinking it could have completely avoided the attack of yellow- spotted purple snakes with baby rattles had the alarm worked.
She set the alarm back down on the bedside table and moved lazily towards her suitcase in the far corner of the room searching for a new set of clothes to wear today. She mumbled unclear words under her breath randomly just to warm up her throat a bit which felt kinda dry. She took out a pair of black jeans and a white t shirt with an arrowed heart in the middle and made a slow advancement to the bathroom as if under a hypnotic trance or a zombie. "I'm coming...coming.." she said her eyes still half closed. She was most definitely not a morning person.

Michael was already up, as he couldn't sleep last night, so he took a shower last night at some ungodly hour and just stayed outside all night. He figured someone could get a hold of him via text message if they wanted or needed him in case they couldn't find him. He wasn't far away from them at all, just in a nearby park underneath a pine tree, sharing some of his pop tart with the birds, some occasionally perching on his broad shoulders and swooping down to get it. He didn't mind really, and they seemed to trust him, since he was so quiet and moved so little. Some kids played on the smaller playground not far away, some teenagers were playing soccer in the field while their parents watched. He wondered why he couldn't have been born like them, to happy normal families who drove them to sports games and let him hang out with friends. He decided to not linger on that subject and turned his head to watch a fat, happy corgi bound through the grass, tongue flopping to the side, chasing after a Frisbee.

Michael was tired from lack of sleep, but he wasn't really hungry or anything even though he'd only had a few bites of a pop tart before the birds started coming up to him for it, he was just listening to the sounds of the city around him, wondering when the rest of the band would need him. He gave the last, tiny part of his pop tart to a little sparrow-like bird and then slid his hands into his black hoodie and looked up at the sky through the branches of the pine, closing his eyes.

Woodstock nodded. Yeah...nightmares... He supposed that the more accurate description was 'memory' seeing as it was all true, but who was to know? He shuddered, taking another swig of the clear throat-burning liquid to forget.

But his smile returned as Stix shuffled his hair, reminding him of the band's good luck. Faith...such a funny word. He himself was not a man of faith, not after what his life had been... But I suppose, if you say so...

Woodstock smiled, giving a shrug to her excitement. Mine too. He stared off for a second, wondering what LA was like. He had seen pictures and movies, but they were surely not like the real deal. He shook his head as he came back to reality. He stretched, his body giving several cricks as he did, a sign of discomfort on his face. Oi, he rubbed his neck, patting the floor. I gotta stop sleeping on the floor...

He then smiled devilishly as he saw a newspaper, adorned with the face of Brad Pitt. He looked to Stix, giving a full-fingered hand for "five", a fist for "zero", tapping the face of the movie star, then pulling out his bent paperclip. Betcha fifty bucks I can break into Brad Pitt's home with nothing but this paperclip.

Vanille raised an eyebrow at Mocha. "Erm. Yes, it did go off. It went off like ten minutes ago. You didn't hear it ring? Didn't get whapped in the face by the pillow I threw at it? Nothing? Ah well..."

She shrugged, going over to her bags again. Sliding on her flip flops, Vanille headed over to the bathroom, which was open at that moment. Going through to the other door, she banged on it before opening it.

"I'm coming through!" she called into the other room as she stepped in.
Taking note of who was there, she sighed. "Alrighty then." she went back to the girl's room, neglecting to shut the doors behind her.
"If anyone needs me, I'm going Michael hunting!" she called out to her friends, swiping a room key and her phone from the table, she headed out the door.

Waving to Stix and Woodstock as she passed them in the hallway, the pink haired keyboardist bounced her way down the hallway. Within a few minutes she had jogged down the block to the nearest park, trying very hard to ignore the creepy looks that guys she passed gave her. Feeling very self-conscious and slightly afraid for her life, Vanille scanned the small array of people in the park for her friend. She almost missed him sitting under the tree, but caught him in the corner of her eye.

With a mischievous grin on her face, Vanille tried to sneak up on her friend, coming up behind the tree he was leaning against. Hesitating for a moment before she decided exactly what she was going to do, she bit back a laugh upon her decision.

"Misha!" she swung around the tree and tackled Michael, calling out her nickname for him.

How would someone...usually get up if they were in a crowded hotel room? Maybe an alarm would buzz, signifying that it was time to arise. Possibly, the phone could ring, a friendly wake-up call from the hotel desk on the other line. There was a good chance that someone could step on him if he had been sleeping on the floor, or maybe he would be stumbled over. That was what usually happened.

How had he waken up though? Wander was hardly sure. He remembered raising his head at the sound of footsteps, being a very light sleeper and all, and hitting it on something. Pain had immediately started, and a violent head-ache slowly worked up. The room around him was blurry, or was that just his vision? Yeah, he just wasn't fully awake yet. He tried to recall, if he had indeed fallen asleep on the floor last night, or had fallen off the bed in the middle of his sleep. It was after a shower very late, he came back into the main part of the room and...couldn't remember...past that.

If he had decided to doze off on the floor, why had he been so stupid to sleep right underneath the edge of the low night-table, obviously a hazard when waking up? He didn't ponder the thought for long, and instead, struggled up to his feet. He could feel some sort of liquid dribbling down his forehead, probably a bit of blood from his harsh wake-up call. Not only that, but Wander's whole body ached from the hard carpet underneath him. Stepping over towards his bag, his mind slowly registered what was happening, and he began to remember. Why was he so uncomfortable? Not only the floor, but he had fallen asleep in jeans and a white t-shirt. The reason? He remembered now. He had done everything so late at night, it could be considered very early in the morning, just for convenience. Wander took out a gray t-shirt, quickly switching it with his white one.

With a quiet sigh, he stretched himself out, grabbing a black leather jacket out of his bag, and throwing it over his shoulders. He quickly brushed off his gray jeans and shirt, then took out one of the two pairs of shoes he had brought. A pair of black combat boots. He quickly slipped them on, lazily tying them up, and then taking a quick look around the rest of the people in the room.

He didn't want to be in the crowded room any longer, so grabbed a room-key off of the table, slipped it in his pocket, and exited. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was doing, he just wanted to be in some big, open area for a bit. Shutting the door behind him, he raised a hand and gently touched the small wound on his upper forehead. Merely a small cut, it would heal. Wander tried his best to wipe off most of the blood with one hand, figuring that his dark bangs would cover most of it anyways.

And so began his trek to find somewhere comfy to sit himself down, and rest. It didn't take long, for he knew that the lobby of the place probably had couches or chairs. Wander passed a few people in different hallways on his way there, yet got to the main area. And at the first place he spotted, he down on a dark red couch. He let out a quiet, exasperated sigh, closing his eyes, leaning back and tilting his head up towards the ceiling. He wasn't going to fall asleep again, but just enjoy the moments that there would be peace and quiet.

The sound of Vanille pierced through the haze of Coda's mind. He didn't dream much these days, but it was probably attributed to the fact he woke up with someones arm locked around his neck. Another round of picking on the shy guy had insued and Coda wondered how he'd fallen asleep like that. Probably from lack of air, he thought to himself as he pushed his way out of the headlock and rose to greet the tangled mass of bodies on the floor. "Morning," he called to no one in particular as he fished for his backpack with his change of clothes. He slung the pack over his shoulder and proceeded toward the bathroom.

It looked as though he wasn't the first of his band mates to shower this morning as he entered the unisex bathroom. It was already hot and steamy from previous runs and Coda hoped there was still enough hot water for him to use. He retrieved a towel from his backpack and then chucked it into a corner to be found later. Coda turned the shower on and stripped his clothes, tossing them into a separate corner. He made sure to lock the door before stepping into the shower. He'd learned not to leave the door unlocked after the first time someone stole his clothes and held them hostage. Coda showered for about 10 minutes and then got out. He retrieved his spare clothes from his backpack and pulled them on; a pair of black jeans and a black and grey shirt with dozens of guitars on it. He grabbed a brush from his pack and wiped his hand across the steamed mirror so he could brush his hair. Once everything was in order he packed his dirty clothes in his back and freed up the bathroom. Coda set off down the hall in search of a pop machine.

Michael had been half-asleep when he heard several of the birds that were scrounging for crumbs fly away in a hurry, making him open his blue eyes and look up just in time for Vanille to tackle him and shout "Misha" which made him jump in panic. He really disliked it when people would sneak up on him like that. He finally calmed down enough and turned to look at the pink haired girl with a sigh, "Vanille..." He said, but still smiled a little and shifted, going to get up. "I take it you need me?" Michael asked.

Stix arched a brow at Woodstock as he made his bet and she snorted at him in response. It was sad that she could understand him most of the time even without him speaking. "No way! Brad Pitt probably spends more on security than we spend in our ENTIRE LIFETIME."

As people began to wake up and get moving, Stix spotted both Vani and Wander moseying down the hallway at separate times and she waved to each as soon as she saw them. Then, laughing, she eyed the poptart package on the floor once more before snatching it and popping up off the ground. "Woodie! You, me, iHop. Seriously. I need a goddamned crepe. I'm going to go nuts thinking about one all day otherwise!" She tugged his hand once, then twice, like a toddler with too much energy that didn't quite know what to do with herself before zooming into the girl's bedroom. Mocha was up, which was quite the surprise, and before the zombie-like girl could hit the bathroom Stix bounced around her and said, "We're going to iHop! Do ya wanna go? Huh? Huh?" Then, laughing at the girl's spaced out look she simply bounced in, pecking her on the cheek as she made her way to the corner to grab her wallet and cell phone.

"Seriously though we're heading to the nearest iHop if ya wanna meet us there," then Stix threw open the door connecting the two rooms and repeated her offer to anyone that was left within the boys room. "iHOP!" she yelled before slamming the door back closed and practically dancing her way back out into the hallway. As she waited for Woodstock to get moving, she sent out a mass text to everyone in the Band that read much the same... "iHop! 10 mins. CREPES PPL." Her love of sugary sweet goodness was well known.

He was up before anyone else, or at least he assumed he was until he noticed Michael wasn’t there. Raptor left the room about a half hour before the others were due to awaken, last night he had slept rather lightly, mostly due to his own excitement at the prospect of his and the band’s first major gig. He decided to go to a nearby park and listen to some tunes on his iphone, the guitarist did notice during his stroll however his brother in harmonics Michael. He seemed to be enjoying the morning air while feeding the birds, quite the cool and collected dude, and while Raptor would like announce his presence and go on about how pumped he was for the coming night, since Michael hadn’t appeared to even sleep with the others last night he assumed he should let the guy relax as much as he could. After all he was an adult; he could get back to them when he needed to.

The next song in Raptor’s playlist came up, one of his favorites. He closed his eyes and banged his head hard as the lyrics painted pictures in his mind. A place of misty mountains, and rolling fields, a place where warriors of valor tested their mettle against vile creatures and dark lords, a fantastical realm which he would give most anything to be a part of. If he could go to such a place however he would at least like the ability to take his new friends there, maybe they wouldn’t all like it but it would at least be extraordinary, a word Raptor always wanted them to be described as.

The song was interrupted by a sound from the phone, looking at it Raptor saw a text that read, “iHop! 10 mins. CREPES PPL.”

This earned a good chuckle from the guitarist as he said to himself, “Good ol’ Stix.” He then texted back to her, “Meet you there \m/”

Lucky for him the restaurant in question was only about a five minute walk from here.

Woodstock chuckled, standing. Alright, alright, I'm coming... In a full-upright position, he gave a hand motion. But... He stuck his hands in his pockets, pulling them out so that they formed the universal sign for "broke". I ain't got any money. He gave a laugh, tucking the pockets back in, then rubbed the back of his neck. So...Eh, pay ya back?

Of course, he knew that unless she was broke herself, she would pay for his meal, and would later not accept payment back. Which was okay, for he was planning to pay her back at some point...like when he actually had cash on-hand. He shrugged, beginning to walk. Well, are we goin' or what? Not really looking to see if she followed--knowing she would--he whistled the tune to "Tainted Love", seemingly getting every part but the vocals, which were whistled.

Such was the talent of Woodstock.

Laughing, Stix palmed Woodie's face playfully. "I've got this. No worries. Maybe we can score a free meal, eh? Like old times?" She nudged him with her elbow then turned her phone around so she could read the incoming text message, “Meet you there \m/”.

"And LOOK! We won't be alone. Maybe Raptor can join us, play air guitar or something..." Another laugh burst forth from her lips as she slid the phone back into her pocket and followed along after the DJ as he headed down the corridor to the elevators. Right within the 10 minute mark, they both walked through the doors to iHop. Woodie was still beatboxing to 'Tainted Love' and Stix was singing.... Well, not quite horribly off key or anything but it was obvious as to why she was the drummer and not the singer. Although Woodstock was doing a decidedly "Soft Cell" version of the tune, Stix was clashing by doing a Marilyn Manson rendition completely with hip thrusts. They stopped just in time to see the Hostess staring at them strangely and Stix snickered to herself as they were were questioned.

"How many today? 2?" The Hostess plastered a smile on her face as she reached for the menus.

"Ahhh, right now yeah. And ahhh 1 more, perhaps..." she counted in her head quickly to see how many there were, "5 more? So maybe-perhaps 7 total?!"

The Hostess frowned slightly at the wide range but didn't say anything else. She picked up a half a dozen menus and proceeded to lead them to one of the back corner booths where there was room enough for all of them, should they all decide to show and she plunked the menus down in the center of the table.

"Your server will be right with you." With that, she was gone.

Stix giggled, pushing Woodstock into the rounded booth seat first before slipping in herself. She was fidgety and excited about the tentative acquiring of nomz and she couldn't keep her hands still. The drummer already knew what she wanted (Crepes, of course) so she amused herself by lining up some of the random glasses on the table. An overturned coffee mug, water glass... What was she? A magician? Too bad they weren't in a Home Depot. Now that was the place to craft a makeshift drum kit. Looking around, she snagged two sets of silverware and took out the knives. Horrible sticks but they would do. She would've preferred a pen but she didn't see any lying around.

Looking sideways, she winked at Woodie and began tapping out a beat for him.

Seeing the wink, Woodstock gave a large smile. Oh, HELL yes. He listened to to the tapped beat, closing his eyes and nodding his head in tempo, his hands before him on the table as if there was a turntable before him. He then launched into a rhythm of clicks and whistles, backed by an off-beat bass beat in his throat, coupled with could have been confused with a drum kit. As his 'voice' worked it's magic, his hand did the same, moving faster than the eye could see on his imaginary musical machine. His rhythm stayed in time but became more complex, changing time signatures to Stix's beat with actually having them clash, instead welding them perfectly.

He changed back the time signature, then changed the sound a little, moshing a wah-wah guitar sound with 8-bit blips and bleeps, sounding like the electronically noise was coming from a machine. He smiled as he heard the sound of claps from the other patrons kept the beat, adding whistles and shouts of approval. Turning the spotlight off of himself, he opened his eyes and returned the wink to Stix, giving her a lead-off into a solo.

After a nice, long and warm shower Mocha hit the microphone. Still in the bedroom, she broke out her karaoke set and selected a song on her i-pod. A bit of Japanese would be good.. She looked back at the alarm clock. There's still time..
With the microphone comfortably positioned in her right hand, she moved backwards to lean against the wall as the lyrics filled her head in preparation as the music soothingly flowed in the room. She pictured a stage, the spotlights, the crowd below watching.. waiting.. for the performance.
She opened her mouth right on cue with closed eyes. Her hands gripping the microphone a little tighter not caring if the whole hotel heard it.

"When I was darkness at a time
Fueteru uchibiru..
Heya no katasumi de I cry--"

The Japanese words escaped her mouth perfectly.. she was afterall half Japanese from her mother's side. The mini stereos though small were quite large in volume and enough to feed Mocha her imaginations.

((Sorry its so short. Couldn't think of much more to add without it just being filler.))

As Coda was heading back to the rooms from the soda machines he heard the unmistakeable sound of his fellow vocalist doing some karaoke coming from the girls room. He stopped to listen for a little bit and hoping no one would mind he opened the door a little and peeked in noticing that everyone was gone for the most part. He waited for the song to end before speaking up. "You've still got it. We should do well," Coda called from the doorway.

Vanille grinned at Michael, "Nah, I didn't really need you. You were kind of missing though, so I figured I should send a search party."

Getting up from the tackle-hug, she pulled her phone from her pocket as it blared techno music- a sound that meant she had a text message. Sliding the lime green phone open to reveal its full keyboard, she quickly clicked through the message, reading it with a glance, and hit reply.

Be right there with Michael. -V

Hitting send, she slid the phone shut and shoved it back into her pocket.

"C'mon, Misha! We've been invited for breakfast with the rest of the gang. iHop soundin' good about now?" she knelt down and grabbed Michael's arm in an attempt to drag him with her. However, a girl that's barely a hundred pounds trying to drag a muscular guy about twice her size doesn't particularly work, so she just sort of ended up falling over.
"Well, that didn't really work." she laughed, bouncing back to her feet with a grin.

With no snare or bass equivalents to play with, Stix’s drum solo wasn’t precisely epic but then again… She didn’t care. She was glad to see Woodie let loose and enjoy himself because recently the only time he seemed to smile was when he was beatboxing, getting himself lost in the music.

As soon as she hit her last beat, the crowd went wild and she raised both ‘sticks’ into the air, claiming momentary victory. The fame was short lived though because it was, after all, iHop and not the Arena. As the applause died down, their waitress finally came up to their table, grinning from ear to ear as she asked for their order with her pen poised above her notepad.

“Berry crepes and coffee! Thanks!” Stix’s order was easy since she had been planning it for the majority of the morning and both ladies turned expectantly towards Woodstock. Her phone buzzed once more and she slid it from her pocket, informing their server that more people were coming so that the waitress knew to stop back if she saw more people in their booth.

Woodstock gave a nod and poked Stix, his way of asking her to translate for him. He gave his order using hand motions and drum kit sound effects. Tall stack of three pancakes, chocolate chip. Two eggs, over medium. The strips bacon, tall glass of white milk.

He gave a smile as the waitress gave an incredulous look to him. "...is that all you can do? Beatbox?" Woodstock nodded, giving a computer-esqe sound of an affirmative answer. The waitress only shook her head, taking down the order translated by Stix, then taking the two menus. "I'll be back shortly with your drinks."

As the waitress walked away, Woodstock gazed upon his previous crowd, now busying themselves with their own meals. His straight face suddenly turned into one of fear, paling. He fixated his eyes down onto the wooden table, hoping to have not been seen. His fingers nervously and unconsciously tapped out OhGodOhGodOhGod repetitively in Morse Code.

Stix blinked at Woodie as he began tapping out something methodically onto the table’s surface and she raised her eyes from the little placard that she had been reading which listed the month’s specials. Turning to look at his face, she saw that he was now deathly pale and looked… scared.

Immediately she went into friend/protector-mode, trying to seek the source of his discomfort but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. A frown crossed her lips as she nudged Woodstock, trying to get him to look at her instead of the tabletop.

“What’s wrong?!” she asked, her voice hushed just in case. He didn’t answer her verbally, of course, but the quick shake of his head was easily interpreted as, Nothing…

She snorted softly and dipped her head lower, trying to meet his eyes with her own. “I call you on bullshit.” Raising her eyes once more, she narrowed them as she took another glance around the room, trying to pick out someone that looked frightening. Someone that would elicit this reaction from her friend.

Woodstock said nothing--both literally and in his own ways--continuing to look to the table, glancing up occasionally. His face bleached even more as a man and a woman, both in mid-life and looking happy and content, hardly a danger to any, stood and took their leave from the table, approaching the one he sat at. His tapping got faster as he closed his eyes, giving a small shudder.

He remembered pain. Burning, searing. Abuse. Hitting. Yelling. They were here to do it again, ruin his life again, take him back to hell...sweat began to form on his brow.

The man now laughed, the couple turning away from the table, only needing to approach the table Stix and Woodstock were at so that they could get to the door and leave the restaurant. Neither noticed the scared boy, cowering in his corner like so many years ago. They left, unaware of the impact of their presence.

Woodstock released his held breath as the two exited, his face returning to a normal color.