Second bottle.

Vivian ground the spent butt of the cig out in one of the ashtrays set out on the bar, exhaling a final stream of wispy, pale smoke from her lips as the bartender set down yet another bottle of Paulaner Salvator Bock before her, beside the poster stretched out in front of her. As she did so, from the corner of her eye, she noted someone taking a seat beside her--a seat previously unoccupied. She could only assume it was 'cause nobody round here wanted to sit next to someone who dressed like they were ready for a riot (then again, at Legion shows, you never could be sure). That'd suited her just fine. After all, she'd come down to the bar to drink, not to socialise with these jackass patrons who looked upon her with a mixture of disgust, fear, and simple dislike.

When she took in the details of the stranger who had stepped up and taken what seemed to be the 'Siege Perilous' of the bar, however, Vivian noted two things. First of all, he was not a 'jackass patron'--well, maybe he was a jackass for all she knew, but he definitely wasn't one of the patrons if one were to judge by his appearance. Which went hand in hand with the fact that Vivian immediately recognised him as the lead guitarist of Nerveshock, on account of his face was plastered across half the poster right in front of her. She saw him take a glance at her, before turning back to his drink. With a mental sort of shrug, Vivian did the same, raising the bottle to her lips to take a generous gulp of doppelbock.

Third bottle.

A few moments came and went. In which time, more people began to accrue around the man who had just taken a seat to her right--without looking up from the poster, she judged they were probably his bandmates, though one look would confirm it. Vaguely she recalled that Nerveshock was to be staying in the same hotel as Legion--she could distantly remember being informed of it. At least, she thought so. Vivian was pretty sure she hadn't been paying a whole lot of attention at the time. Brief snatches of conversation from their end drifted up to her ears, but in silence Vivian merely went about her drinking. The amount of alcohol in the bottle rapidly dwindled again to nothing. She ordered another.

Fourth bottle.

"FUCK."

And that would have been the bellowing, resonant voice of Richard Rayberg, co-lead guitarist of Legion, quite easily audible from his room down into the dimly lit bar. "I'M STILL DRUNK."

A moment later, Vivian heard the bar doors shoved open, followed by heavy footsteps up the floor of the bar. An exiguous smirk alit on her lips as the boots pounding across the floor approached. "Sup hoss," she tossed in an almost off-handed manner, gesturing with her head in a minute indication the seat beside her. Rick complied, dropped his towering bulk onto the barstool to her left, ordering himself the whisky he seemed to love so much. "An' I was surprised to not see you yesterday," he directed now to Vivian, turning his head in a minute motion towards her. "Good morning." He offered a smile, or what looked like it could've been one.

"Yer even more hungover than you look," she retorted, shaking her head; hints of an accent, possibly inland south in origin, tinged her words. "It's evenin'."

"Is it really? Shit. Damn tour bus has got me all kinds of messed up."

Ian Frasier, better known as 'Lenchi' or 'that lazy asshole', suppressed a yawn as he dropped into the seat to Rick's right like a sack of potatoes, looking rather like a bear only just awakening from a long era of hibernation. The bartender walked towards him, but Lenchi merely blinked at him as though he'd never seen anything quite like him, and after a moment, disgruntled, the bartender figured Lenchi wasn't gonna order anything, and he skulked off.

"About time ya showed up," Viv remarked at the evidently exhausted bassist, turning her sharp gaze on him. "s'been hours."

"Well, you know how sometimes you walk into your room and just let yourself fall onto the bed, and then it's..." he felt another yawn coming on, and this time decidedly failed to suppress it. "then it's just so much effort to get back up..." He blinked, and then straightened up, as if only just realising where they were and what they were doing. "Also, is it altogether wise to be drinking the night before the big concert?"

"Yes."

Lenchi sighed as Vivian shot that line of thinking down with one gruff, terse word. Well, that was the way it always was. Vivian and Rick liked to drink. Right before and right after shows. He'd kinda gotten used to it. At least it beat Vivian blowing her top and launching a bar-wide brawl whenever Rick wasn't there to talk some sense into her....

"So which one of you carried me to bed yesterday?" A voice, touched with a distant but distinct Liverpool accent, drifted once more up towards the collected members of Legion. Lenchi glanced up, his eyes falling on the group seated not far to the side. A glint of recognition dawned in his half-shut eyes as he spoke in a lowered voice. "Hey, aren't they...?"

"Nerveshock? Yes, they are." Vivian turned her head towards the other band, smirk still evident on her face. "Our...how'd they put it. 'Fellow headliner'." Lenchi thought he could catch a mocking tone in her words...or, just as likely, maybe that was just Vivian talking as she usually did.