whiskey, smoke and aces high

It's too bad. When did it get cool to be so sad? We're spinnin' backwards, did we all go mad?
Yeah, we're only human but w?'ve got hands and hearts and noses,
So stop and sm?ll the fucking roses

'Sounding board? Is that you making a music joke?" Remi wants to know, and though the parking garage smells as one might expect, still the musician takes a deep breath of air that isn't almost entirely his own.

"The Wellerman Theatre. You know it?" It was artsy and pretentious, but it was several steps up from the bar he'd played in the night before. Before he can fall climb off the bike and try to play down the fact that this is the type of show you actually need to buy tickets for, Hallway is kissing him.

Heat pulses in his belly, sending sparks up into his lungs. Remi's gasp of surprise is immediately followed by fingers seeking out the collar of Ronin's jacket as the musician fumbles to try and stand. Still awkwardly straddling the bike he's holding onto the mechanic for balance as much as to keep him near, not wanting either of them to have the chance to say or do something stupid to derail this moment. Ronin tastes like the open road and gasoline and it's without even a moment's hesitation that the musician's tongue invades to deepen their kiss, even as he still fumbles to find his footing.

ThE RoCkStAr