"Whatever you want..." He assured her quietly, rubbing his eyes with the back of one hand - at first glance, he was just another typical celebrity. His warddrobe cost the price of a small car, his hair - though a little rough around the edge because of a couple months without a trim - was well-styled and those baby-blues cool and confident. Upon closer inspection though, he was more clearly the troubled soul of a stereotypical musician - brows more often than not furrowed in thought, eyes tired and red-rimmed, tracks lining his arms beneath the long-sleeved back button-up that he wore. At the reporter's insinuations, he just sighed in annoyance and was silent until Bianca headed off, and then called after her. "B..." -- RD Future: The Boardwalk

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