brooksfeldmcn

[brooksfeldmcn]

Looking at his shoulder, Brooks considered shoving all his unruly hair underneath a wig. "I think that would do more harm than good for me," He said with a laugh. "But you an never go wrong with the baseball hat and sunglasses, right?" Brooks knew better than to be offended by people not recognizing him. Half the people he met here recognized his voice more than his face, which was fine. And the man wasn't expecting Jason Robles to know who he is. "I do, two albums one of them came out last year," He said, shifting his drink to his other hand offering a can cold hand. "Brooks Feldman, it's great to meet you."

"I get it." Though he wondered how many people would recognize him to begin with. With those that listened to his music, he wasn't sure if they what he even looked like. "Or put a wig on and call it a day too." He would do it. It would be kind of cool if anyone recognized him with the wig on. "Do you have music out too?" The other man looked familiar but he wasn't sure if he had ever heard of any of his songs.

#jason: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

It was a really good thing he took a second to actually look for a good outfit for this event. His manager had been wishy washy about the dress code. It's a nice place - a rooftop bar on Broadway that had a perfect view of some of the bigger record labels in Nashville, and the Grand Ol' Opry if you squint - she had said. But your aesthetic is this casual lumberjack thing and execs eat a gimmick up. The entire conversation was not helpful, but he settled on his nicest pair of jeans and a flannel rolled up to his elbows and called it a day. He wasn't the most casual in the room, but he felt even more like a fish out of water as more and more suits and dresses walked by him. Brooks did his mingling, and now he was settling his back against the cool concrete of a wall close enough to the action he didn't look like he was avoiding the crowd, but far enough away he could breathe. He had just snagged a too fancy container full of fries off a passing waiter's tray just to have something to hold when he heard a familiar voice. Blue eyes glanced up as he bit into a french fry, half a smile on his face as Ryan approached. Free hand going to his chest in a show of dramatic appreciation, he reached out and took the bottle from the blonde. "With extra ash too," He said around a laugh. "you know me so well." He took a swig of said beer, scanning the crowd before his eyes settled back on Ryan. "I'm glad you're here...I'm not actually sure I was supposed to take this entire thing from the guy so I'm gunna need you to help me eat these," voice low with fake conspiracy, he tilted the container of fries toward her. "And you're not an idiot...I never know what to do with myself at these things."

CLOSED — @brooksfeldmcn SETTING — idk some industry event

With her latest album bringing her into a whole new audience, Ryan finds herself at more and more of these events. Her career has never really been stagnant but she's spent the last decade catering to a very particular audience of teenage girls and women in their early twenties. And that was fine — she liked that. It was fun. Upbeat. Energetic. But when 'just married' had dropped, suddenly her fanbase grew a tenfold and people of all walks of life were digging into her discography. It was amazing, to say the least, but sometimes she feels a little like an intruder at these big events with artists who have always been taken more seriously than her. She's on the verge of an imposter syndrome induced anxiety attack when she spots Brooks, practically beelining for someone who she's spent enough time with to consider him at least kind of a friend (or at the very least a familiar face in a crowd of strangers), stopping off at the bar momentarily. "Hey," she greets him. "Since we'r both kind of awkwardly standing around, I figured we could at least do that together. And if you weren't standing awkwardly, you can at least humour me for a minute so I don't look like a complete idiot. Plus, I brought you this — I even got the bartender to put his cigarette out in it for you," she jokes, handing the amber bottle over to him. "Since you like it that way, right?"

#ryan: 02.

[brooksfeldmcn]

— who: @gemma-devereux — where: Creative Commons

Giving back to the community is good for you. His manager had said. She had laid it on really thick considering Brooks hadn’t fought the suggestion to help run a songwriting workshop for college students and other up and comers at the Creative Commons. Brooks was genuinely excited to do it, but it felt like she had prepared an entire speech to convince him so he just let it happen. So that’s how he found himself climbing the steps to the Creative Commons and shaking the hand of the organizer earlier on a Saturday than he’d ever like to be awake, but it was worth it. That’s what he told himself as he unloaded his guitar as well as a mandolin. He wasn’t the only one on the docket, either, as the second guest walked through the door. Gemma Deveraux.  Brooks was secure enough in his own career to know that her name has been more mainstream for a longer amount of time, and that was probably the pull for a lot of the people who signed up for the class. But he was confident enough in his own career trajectory to know that his name had some pull too. “Mornin’,” Brooks greeted the woman as she walked into the room. “Beautiful day to affect the minds of the future of songwriters am I right?” He asked, quoting the college’s description of the class directly. 

#gemma: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Brooks was halfway through his second mug of coffee when Salem came into the diner. Glancing up as they slid into their seat, the long haired man waved away their apologies. "Don't even worry about it, gave me time to actually turn into a human." It had been a long night the night before, but he had this plan for a tattoo consultation over breakfast for awhile now and he didn't want to back out. "Order whatever you want, it's on me."

location: dolly's diner

closed starter for: @brooksfeldmcn

there are four people that salem nearly bumps into in their rush to get to dolly's. they were horrible about making plans with people, hardly ever on time, much to their friends' chagrin. but they'd set an alarm this time, one that had made them practically jump out of their skin the second it went off. but now they were late, chest heaving as they were nearly out of breath by the time they reached the diner. salem didn't even bother trying to smooth down their red locks as they scurried inside, eyes immediately landing on brooks. "i'm late," they mutter, plopping down in the seat across from him, their tone hushed. "i'm so sorry. i swear i set a reminder this time and everything. i'm starting to believe that i'm just incapable of being on time anywhere."

#salem: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Brooks knew exactly what Jason was talking about. It was why he lurked in the back of so many of these nights. Just being able to enjoy the craft of hearing up and coming songwriters. It reminded him of where he came from. Leaning against the wall he was standing in front of, Brooks glanced at the singer beside him. Of course he knew who Jason Robles was, he was pretty sure the man showed up on his Spotify Wrapped playlist multiple times, but he wasn't sure the other man knew who he was. "Honestly sometimes I wonder if I could find a like...town small enough that no one knows who I am and try doing an open mic there like I used to, y'know?"

WHO: open

WHERE: tootsies, rooftop

Honestly, Jason was happy to support whomever was on stage. It was a nice night, with good music so far. "I miss getting to perform with a smaller crowd like this. It makes it feel all so intimate." He admitted, "Kinda nice to just be someone in the crowd tonight." If people didn't listen to country music, they probably had no idea who he even was. Even then, it's not like he was some world famous musician. At least not yet.

#jason: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

— who: @wyatt-madden — where: Open Mic Night, The Bluebird Cafe

When he first got to town, Brooks spent most of his time getting to know Nashville through their open mic nights and smaller live performance venues than he’s been in before. He loved the fact he could sell out theaters and bigger venues, but there was something so fun about the atmosphere in a listening room like the Bluebird Cafe. So he’d go there and just park himself in a seat, listening to the music from the city, and sometimes participating in the shows. His favorite was open mic night, where he could listen to people who might not do this as a career and probably should. It was like performances he did on the east coast, and it brought with it a sense of nostalgia. It was one of those nostalgia fueled evenings that he met Wyatt Madden. A high school math teacher who had a talent that he seemingly didn’t want to share with the world.  Brooks wasn’t in the business of pressuring people, so when he heard that Wyatt had no interest in a record deal, he just said oh, shrugged his shoulders and said he’d see him next time. It’s become somewhat of a tradition for the Nashville newcomer and the taller man to meet up during Open Mic’s, whether at The BlueBird or the Tin Roof. Tonight was no different. Brooks had signed up first so he had already performed, and was settling down at their table in the back, two drinks ready to go for when Wyatt walked off stage. “That a new one?” He asked over the applause for the next performer as Wyatt crossed the room to join him again. “Sounded good.”

#wyatt: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Sid had not been on the top of his manager's list for people to keep an eye out for, if Brooks was being honest. She focused mostly on the blue grass and country performers, the niche where his music would slot into nicely along side other folk musicians. But if he was honest, Brooks didn't want to just be around those artists. They were talented, and he's created almost friendships with people he listened to every day, but he also loved other genres. Rock, Alternative, all the loudness and heavy bass that came with it. And there was something so interesting about when those genres combined, Brooks explored it in his first album and he absolutely wanted to revisit it. So he made sure to learn about everyone. "Yeah I'm learning that...I thought it was hard selling my songs to other artists, but then I performed them and offered it up to the general public for interpretation. It's wild to hear some of the interpretations, but it's liek sending a kid to school...at least I think." Leaning back on the wall he was standing in front of, the shorter man couldn't keep the sheepish grin off his face. "That's...thank you. I've always wanted people to hear that part of my music, so it means a lot." Dial Drunk, the newest addition to his catalog, was getting close to matching the viral level that Stick Season had. "Yeah that one was...almost cathartic to get out there. I dunno if I wanna say I'm glad or I'm sorry that you relate to it though." And then he tilted his head to the side, studying the man before him. "Y'know...my team suggested releasing a remix of it. You wanna write a verse? we can work on some stuff to add to it?"

"No judgement here," he exhaled a quick laugh from his nose. "I'm a high school drop out and have to look up lyrics all the time. Especially if people as about the old stuff." There were a few songs he would always be able to recite off the top of his head, just by how many times he sang them. "That's why we practice right?" Otherwise the band would forget the music, or they wouldn't be in sync and he'd forget the audio queues for parts of the song. It would all be a disaster. Besides, and he was sure the other man could relate, after you've written enough songs things could get jumbled. Especially when asked to remember a random line on the spot. Even more so when it came to Brooks, he had to assume, who had extremely lyric intensive songs.

His eyebrows twitched upwards when the other man said his name. Not that he was unaware that his name was known, it just gave him a quick surprise that the other man knew it. "That's me," he confirmed and shook the hand offered to him. "I know it a little too well. That part never gets easier either. I wish I could say it did." Maybe it did for some people, but in his experience with musicians - whether writing songs or music - it was always scary to release something you cared about. "Yeah? That would be fucking cool, man. I've really wanted to work with some different styles and talents. Your storytelling in your lyrics is top notch." He commended, hoping he didn't sound dumb by saying it. On stage and in the studio his confidence was through the roof but social interactions were touch and go. "Dial Drunk really hit home for me, in more ways than one."

#sid: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Laughing a little, Brooks nods. "yeah I agree with you there. Though I only have this because his station makes a tshirt for like every occassion so he has plenty to spare." Every time he goes home to visit there's another pile on the dresser in his old room. He hasn't had to buy a gym tshirt in five years. Shaking Carson's hand, Brooks laughed. "What gave it away?" He joked. "Yeah...just wrapped tour for my last album so that's why I've got all that goin on," He said, waving to the receding backs of the girls he just scribbled down the lines of their favorite songs for. "It's usually not like that...which is a blessing." He loved his fans but if he had to deal with stuff like that every day it would be too much.

Carson could strike up a conversation with pretty much anyone, especially with a few beers in him. "Yeah? Well it's cool to support, too. Especially family." He got the feeling there was probably more to the story about his dad. The way Brooks had said it had been past tense, which might have meant he was retired, or it might have meant he was no longer alive, and Carson didn't want to bring up any bad memories.

"That's the beauty of tattoos though, right? They can be whatever you want. People overthink it, especially for their first one. They're always like it's gotta be really meaningful. It's fine to get tattoos just 'cause you like how they look. But if it means something to you, cool." Carson extended his hand to shake Brooks'. "Nice to meet ya, I'm Carson. Guessing you're a musician?"

#carson: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Blinking at the woman before him, Brooks raised one eyebrow over blue eyes. "It feels like you've been thinking abou thtis awhile...have you stolen people's hair before? Have you stolen my hair before?" It's mostly a joke, but honestly, with the way this conversation has been going, he wouldn't put it past her to say yes. Rolling his eyes, the singer shoved his hands in his pockets. It rocked his world a little bit, that people liked him enough to want anything about him tattooed on their body forever, but the idea of an autograph makes him feel some type of way. "Honestly...I'd probably hate the foot more," They both sucked, but at least the guy's armpit was getting air, compared to his foot in a pair of old socks in a pair of sneakers he's been wearing for tree days. "Anyways, what fun fair things have you done so far? You get a deep fried Oreo yet?"

"You have a full head of hair! No one would even notice," she said throwing her hands up defensively. He truly must no have the supreme fans who track his every movement if no one has gotten that close to him yet. Albeit, they are sneaky and very well could have paid off a maid to find some strands of hair he left in a hotel room over the years. "To have your name be on a body. What a privilege and a honor for you."I'm surprised they didn't ask you to marry them while they were at." That question always made her chuckle.

"Well I don't need your head getting big on me here. It's to keep you humble," Azra said before sticking her tongue out at him. She liked Feldy. It was nice. At the mention of the arm pit, she shook her body as a shiver went down her spine. Gross. "This guy didn't have a phone and couldn't take a picture?" she said shaking her head in dismay. Never. "At least they could have done it on the sole of their foot like Woody," she pointed out. That seemed like a plausible solution.

#azra: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

"No you know what," Brooks said, waggling the bottom of his beer can in her general direction. "We're gunna go with your first one...honestly saying I don't have the frat boy vibe is the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me." His free hand went to rest on his chest right above his heart. "So thank you, Ryan. You just made my day," The teasing lilt in his voice faded into the loaded silence between them as the singer offered his "ashy" beer to the blonde. Eyebrows arching up and disappearing behind curls falling across his forehead. In his heart, he knew that she absolutely wouldn't go for it, but seeing the expression on Ryan's face change so many times made the man laugh. "Okay, dramatic," He said, shaking the beer can before finally deciding that yeah, maybe it would be gross to keep drinking this, and tossing it in the trash can. "I'm pretty sure I saw a hot dog wrapped in a funnel cake served with a pickle." Hands shoving into his pockets, Brooks nodded towards the booths in question, the man sighed. "However, since it looks like I traumatized you with that dare, I'll get the first round of drinks and whatever deep fried shit you want. When's your set tonight or tomorrow?" They were both performing - at least Brooks thought he saw her name on the list.

Ryan's nose scrunches and she makes a point of giving Brooks a dramatic once over, humming to herself. "I dunno. I was married to a frat boy — you don't give off the same vibe." She pauses for a second, quirking her head as if another thought has just come to her. "Maybe I'm just way worse at reading people's vibes than I thought I was." Which is probably closer to the actual truth. Blue eyes widen when Brooks dares her to drink the beer, a heavy silence hanging between them while she waits for him to tell her he's just kidding, and she practically gags at the thought of it when she realizes he isn't. "There's literally nothing any of these food trucks or any restaurant you could find in any corner of Hell that would come anywhere close to being as disgusting as your ashy beer," she points out, brows raised.

#ryan: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Despite the heat sticking to his skin like velcro, Brooks could admit that he was having fun. Milling around, drink in hand while the party happened around him. And meeting fans. He much preferred interactions like these. Off the cuff, random on the street or at a bar situations, over the paid ones he experienced on tour. When they pay for a meet and greet he stresses himself out to make sure everyone gets their money's worth. It feels less genuine. So when he and Chloe were walking down the street, Brooks laughing at some story she was telling, and a group fo fans stopped them to speak to him, his day was made.

Turning back to his companion for the day - and a few nights the past week - a dark eyebrow arched upward. "He got a portrait of you on his arm? ...Hope he's single. Would be a weird thing to explain to someone," Brooks said, downing the remainder of his only beer of the day before tossing the can into the trash can they were walking by. "They're not getting my autograph, they had me write a lyric down...almost as personal y'know?" Hands in his pockets he let Chloe lead the way down toward the rest of the fair. He walked beside her, but kept himself half a step behind, keeping an eye on the area around them. "I've signed boobs and an ass," He confirmed. "ANd I reall yhope neither one of those are tattoos now..." Chuckling a little Brooks studied Chloe's face. "How many boobs have you signed? Or do I finally have you beat at something?"

As corny as it would sound if she voiced the thought, wandering the street fair with Brooks helped put Chloe more at ease. Maybe it's the friendship they've formed, or the fact that he's ended up in her bed on multiple occasions -- And she's admittedly, getting a bit too attached. Chloe's got a feeling it has more to do with craving love and connection than actually wanting to be with him, though he was great company regardless. The former was a conversation for her therapist, not the street fair. She can't help the smile that comes to her as he greeted fans, smiling for pictures and looking like he was trying not to squirm.

"It's always going to be weird," she confirms with a knowing nod, hiding her laugh with a sip of her Diet Coke. "Did they want your autograph tattooed? 'Cause that's weird to me, just getting someone's name." She points out, though it's certainly not the worst of it. "I once met a guy with my face fully tattooed on his bicep. It looked just like me, even if it was -- Well, it was pretty fucking weird." Chloe recounts with a dramatic shiver. "Anyone ask you to sign their boobs, yet?" She can't help but ask, laughing at her own words.

#chloe: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

#icb i havent reblogged my fave pic of him yet #face.

[brooksfeldmcn]

"Oh so cool. But you gunna laugh at me if I tell you I also had to pull the lyrics up on google to make sure I wasn't spelling anything wrong?" In his defense, the girl was going straight to the booth at the fair to get it done. He wasn't going to make her have a tattoo that was both unreadable and spelled wrong. Brooks was so bad with names it was honestly kind of embarrassing. So one of the things his manager sat him down and made him down when he moved to Nashville was go over the names of some of the bigger players in the industry. The man holding the slushy beside him was one of those faces, but it took a few seconds for him to put the face to the name.

But the compliment raised some warmth in his cheeks. He's proud of his music and what he's done, but hearing others - especially others that were in the same line of work - say they enjoyed his music made Brooks feel like he was doing something right. "You're...Sid right? Crimson Crypt? Hey man," The shorter man held a hand out for a shake. "That means a lot. Always hard to put something out in the world that means so much to you, y'know? But honestly, I'd love to. Sounds like fun."

Anyone that knew Sid well enough (or hung out with him longer than an hour) knew he had a sweet tooth. He couldn't even blame it on any of his old vices, either. It had been that way ever since he could remember. When he saw the rainbow slushie things coming from the Tin Roof area, he had to go get one. Lucky for him they had it in a non-alcoholic version as well. He stuck around to watch the drag show, always a fan of the work that went into them and sometimes discovered a tip or two from them. It was rare, but it happened. Either way, he was entertained. When Brooks approached him he already recognized who he was. Though he didn't look like the type of guy who normally listened to indie rock, he most certainly did. He listened to almost everything.

"Yeah, but it's really cool when they get your lyrics tattooed on them or the symbol of your band. It always makes this cold, dead heart beat a couple times." He offered up a quick laugh and cleared his throat. Honestly, how badass could he look in all black drinking a rainbow slushie out of a straw. He may as well be an overgrown toddler. "Hey, your last album was really fresh, I dug it. We should do something together sometime." Sid was almost positive it would be denied but it's not often he actually gets to collaborate with people.

#sid: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

Glancing down at his chest, Brooks laughed a little. "God I hope people don't assume this means I'm a firefighter. Not brave enough for that shit," He admitted. "This was from my dad." Who probably shared this person's sentiments about not being bothered on his day off. "Anime huh? most of my tattoos just don't make sense." Random pieces of art that he saw and liked and random quotes. that he could tie together in a theme if he really wanted to, but he rarely did. "Oh a line of one of my newer songs. Which always means a lott o me but god requests like that really make me realize that I need to practice writing legilbly." Tossing his empty beer can in the trash beside them, Brooks quirked a dark eyebrow up at his new companion. "'m Brooks, by the way."

Carson was used to being around people who got asked for autographs and selfies. Nobody wanted his autograph or picture, but he was sometimes in the same place as artists at Applause gatherings or other industry events. Usually, he was the kind of guy they'd ask to hold the camera. "Nice shirt," he chuckled, gesturing to the Fire Department logo on the other person's chest. "Decided not to wear mine today. Didn't want anyone to think I was on Duty." When you worked shifts as long as he did, time off was invaluable.

"I get it. But a bunch of my tattoos are of anime characters, so I can't really judge what anyone decides to put on their body." Carson was a not-so-secret nerd wrapped in the body of a linebacker. "What'd you write? Just an autograph, or a song lyric or something? I think having a song lyric in the handwriting of the artist who wrote it could be pretty cool."

#carson: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

"Okay on that note I need you to stand about ten feet away from me. Can't have you fuckin' with the hair." Brooks joked, though the hand skimming over his head again may have shown his unease. Glancing over his shoulder at the girl who's shoulder he just signed, Brooks snorted as he turned back to his friend. "I'll have you know I took my sweet time on that so it's at least legible. Is it good? No. But will she at least know what words are on her body forever? Yes." The question threw him off for a second as he took a sip o the beer he just retrieved. But not as much as the nickname. "Feldy? That's new." He's not too mad about it though, Brooks wasn't really an easy name to give nicknames for, so growing up he didn't have any - Little Shit courtesy of his big brother, did not count - so he'd take what he could get. "An arm pit. Absolutely." Shuddering at the memory he leaned against the wall behind him. "Drunk guy at a festival I was playing back in LA. Said he loved my set and wanted to remember my name, but he didn't have any paper and he was covered in tattoos. so instead of like, taking his phone out he handed me a sharpie and lifted his arm."

"I would go for a lock of your luscious hair. Make some clones out of you. These people truly don't know how to capitalize here," she said jokingly. Having now been a party of the industry in terms of a nontraditional lens there weren't many people Azra fawned over anymore. They were simply other humans who were graced with a sprinkle of musicality and charisma that shot out of a canon and into stardom. Some roads were paved while others were littered with potholes. She'd seen the good, the bad, and the ugly in just these three years in the array of people she met in her line of work. That's were the beauty lay and the Baris loved it aall.

"Maybe you can take some penmanship class. That way Rita over there won't regret your chicken scratch on her shoulder blade in five years." Azra could never. She appreciated people's dedication and true fans were unlike anything she'd ever come across. However, there was no way in hell she'd get someone's handwriting on her body. Permanent? No thank you. "Where's the weirdest place you've been asked to sign on someone Feldy?"

#azra: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

"Oh god," Hand flying to his chest for a second, Brooks shook his head. "God if they asked to tattoo my name on them I'd cry." His lyrics were deeply personal, sure. But there was something next level about someone wanting to get his name on his skin forever. His dad got his and his brother's names tattooed on him years ago and it still rocked him a little bit. "Thank god it was just song lyrics this time - so like if they end up hating me later on down the road they can say its a family quote or something."

Meg had been watching the spectacle of fans crowding over the man. The people watching at things like this was more enjoyable than participating for her. There was a part of her that did miss those kind of interactions. She never had anything at that level but there was a kind of high after a show and coming out stage door to see so many faces excited to see you. It was nice how the man seemed to take his time with them.

"I guess one of the pros of being illegible is that if they stop being a fan of yours then they can just make something else up for it," she offered with a smile. "Not that anyone would stop being fan," Meg quickly followed up like she just realized what she had said. "I'm sure anyone that dedicated enough to brand your name on them would find it to be worth the lifelong commitment."

#meg: 01. #event: 01.

[brooksfeldmcn]

"Tortured art boy huh?" Turning to fully look at Ryan, arms crossed over his chest, a dark eyebrow arched upward. "I was told I give a distinct depressed frat boy vibe, but I like tortured artist better. Just as long as they dont expect me to go full Van Gogh." Blue eyes followed the trail of the singer's finger to it's target. In all honesty, it wouldn't be the grossest thing that Brooks has put in his body. He did get an invite to his brother's first end of football season party in college. "Wait for real?" The disappointment in his tone came out as a sigh. This beer was pricey for what it was. Rattling the can in his hand, a smirk graced his features, glancing back at the blonde. "Dare you to drink some." A silly comment to make, considering she was apparently scared of mono. "Like if you do, I'll eat the grossest deep fried thing you can find on this block."

The Summer Street Fair is one of the many Nashville traditions Ryan has fully immersed herself in since moving to the city, but this year she feels a little like she's faking it. In the past, it had been an excuse to drink, play a show, meet fans and play overpriced and definitely rigged carnival games. Of course, she's still doing all of that. But she feels a little like her heart isn't in it. But with a show on the main stage later during the weekend, she is determined to fully immerse herself in the experience and turn that around. She'd leaned against the brick wall of a bar while Brooks signed a fans arm, chatting with another fair goer while he did so.

"You should invest in a calligraphy class or somthin'," she hums, pushing back off the wall and standing up straight. "It'll add to that tortured art boy vibe you've got goin' on. But more importantly," her nose scrunches, a manicured finger pointing at his beer can accusingly. "Please don't tell me you're gonna drink floor beer. I saw someone's cigarette ash land in that." Well, she's pretty sure it landed in it — best case scenario, it landed close enough. "I'm pretty sure you can get mono from that." You can't.

#ryan: 01. #event: 01. #i love her already ur honor