The Music RPG

Johnny scowled at the police officer, having had his fair share of screaming and yelling.

His shoulders huddled together like in defense of something, he turned his back on the man, grabbing the phone and thinking hard about who to call.

He briefly considered Allison before pushing it out of his mind; he knew he didn't need her bitchiness at the moment. Finally, after contemplating for some time, he dialed up Nick Zinner. Hoping beyond hope the little fairy boy would pick up, he tapped his foot angrily on the floor.

Slowly stirring from her sleep, Alison was dimly aware that she was lying uncomfortably on her back, and that there was a hot, rasping feeling across her face, making it difficult to breathe. With a disgruntled groan, she randomly clawed at the disturbance, not registering that it was the bedspread smothering her. But somehow during the night she had managed to tangle herself up in the blanket, and she ended up rolling off the edge of the bed to hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Nathan padded over to Caleb's bedroom. Noticing the door was open a crack, he gently pushed it open wider. He stood in the doorway for an awkward moment, slipping his glasses from his face and unnecessarily cleaning the lenses with his t-shirt. He finally found his voice and apprehensively ventured into the room further. "What's up? You wanted help with the userpics, right?" he asked kindly.

Roughly twenty minutes later, the three of them (Z, Charlotte, and Tennessee) were standing in front of Barnes & Noble. Z had somehow magicked a pair of large amber sunglasses and was now pushing them up her nosebridge as she glanced at some books on display outside, and then beckoned her friends to follow her as she walked briskly into the shop.

"It's kind of hot out today," she remarked over her shoulder casually. "Good thing they usually have the A/C up high in places like this..." Surely enough, as soon as she stepped foot into the bookstore, she was hit by a wave of chilly air that made the hair on her arms stand up.

Chuckling to himself, Adam pushed his desk chair back and rolled over to the other side of his desk to fetch his cell phone. He took his time searching for Ben's number, humming to himself, and then pressed call with a shake of his head. "Bitch Kweller," he muttered to himself with another chuckle.

Johnny swaggered into a bar, casting a disdainful eye around the place. His gaze took in the cheesy-looking interior, the even cheesier-looking women, and a few men who looked like they had steroid cereal for breakfast. Rolling his eyes, he sat down and tried to ignore the nastiness of the place, ordering several shots of whiskey.

A good half hour later, he was steadily on the road to fall-down drunkenness. Watching out of the corner of his eye, he saw a big-muscled man take the seat next to him, regarding him with a sneer. The man muttered something about "fags" and Johnny whirled around, jamming his fist into his head. After about 15 minutes of yelling, confusion, broken glass and a lot of rolling about on the floor, he emerged with a bloody nose and a bruised fist. He'd thought he was triumphant till he'd been grabbed by the bouncers and forcefully tossed into the sidewalk.

Breathing in the chilly air slowly, he tried to force himself to stay calm, muttering slurred profanities to himself and getting up off his knees with shaky legs.

That was when he thought he spotted someone he knew...

Nick quickly jumped out of his computer chair, having just responded to Karen's comment, at the faint ringing of his cell phone. He dashed from room to room, trying to trace where the sound was coming from. It grew slightly louder as he neared his living room. "I can hear you..." He muttered to himself, beginning to throw pillow cushions over his shoulder.

He grinned broadly at the sight of his cell phone, snatching it up and accepting the call. "I found it," he said calmly into the phone, though his breathing was slightly uneven from racing around his apartment.

Nathan had woken up several hours earlier from a bad dream and, after several minutes of tossing and turning, couldn't manage to get back to sleep. Once awake he couldn't even recall what had upset him badly enough to have roused him in the first place and tried to shrug it off. As he sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper in a vaguely interested way and nibbling at some slightly burnt toast, it was obvious he hadn't slept well the previous night - the darkness under his eyes, the heavy-lidded expression.

Charlotte got herself all pretty and headed out her house and hailed a taxi, which took her straight to Z's place.

She got out, payed the driver and walked up to her door, knocking on it.

She yelled loudly through the door, "Z! IT'S CHARLOTTE!"

Albert looked around his hotel room, thinking to himself about what to do. He took out his phone, sat down at the edge of his bed. Dialed Fab's number and put the phone up to his ear, listening.