"I'll be damned if my guitar will be thrown into the back of a truck." Conner raised his hand to his face and gave the bridge of his nose a nice long rub trying to fight down the intense pain that flared before his eyes. "I think you just gave me a tumor from your pure stupidity and child.." He was about to say before looking at the both of them, "Right. Suppose that isn't so surprising."
Conner took another drink from his smoothie to cut himself off from talking anymore. He wasn't about to go into where Red could shove her guitar. It wasn't like he couldn't lug his equipment around... No, wait. He couldn't. How did they think he moved his drums when playing in garages and other small gigs? He couldn't pack it into a giant case like they could, but then again, Conner never considered players of stringed instruments to be very talented. If they were, they would play drums. Or piano instead of getting caught up by the mainstream push to play guitars.
Placing the drink down to once again rub his nose, he let out a slow breath. He was getting way too angry over such a small thing. Conner repeated the mantra of being the adult over and over again as they spoke to each other. "Ok. How are the other band members going to get across the city or to different parts of the state? We won't be playing in the same town, in the same place every month. Unless you got a vehicle large enough to fit three people and their instruments." He said not counting Red since she already wore out her welcome in sitting in his truck. Speaking about his beloved Bessie like that.
"Anyway, Cecilia still isn't here, so I'm wondering if perhaps she's ill? We can start some practice without her, if she doesn't get here soon enough," Conner gave a shrug, "Your the leader." He said simply, "So lead on." Taking another sip he was rewarded with the dreadful sound of air and liquid fighting for space, the dreaded 'slurping' sound of a new completed drink.