Distant music thrummed, pounding a beat through the walls of the structure. It was a far call however, from the symphonic chaos that it had been just minutes prior. The (relatively) calm beat pulsed with steady tempo as people were ushered out of the stadium. The back halls hosted a number of people, each taking part in the larger effort to clear the evidence of the recent show from the stage, halls, and back rooms.
Through them weaved a glowing skeleton.
A curse was muttered somewhere, followed by a louder apology as the switch controlling the lights was flicked back on after being leaned against.
Through them weaved a topless, messy haired man whose body paint was streaked with the occasional bead of sweat. He dipped and dodged through the much busier people on the way to his changing room, quite ready to-
Whap
“Dry off before you go flicking people with your juices.” A stern voice called out as a towel smacked Nash in the face, briefly wrapping around his head and knocking him off balance.
Nash knew the voice, it was Argus, his Omwati manager. The immediate response from Nash was muffled by the towel, to which argent again responded.
“Uh huh, yeah. Totally. Stay out of trouble this time.” With a flourish of rainbow feathers the Omwati spun and showed the rear end of his coat as he passed around a corner just as Nash clawed the towel off his face. The Hapan rolled his eyes and sagged forward, shoulder hunched not too dissimilar from a child being told he has to go do the dishes before he went to play. The pout didn’t last long however, as he jovial movement pushed him on, near jumping from foot to foot witch each step in time with the pulsing music in the distance.
Finally, his journey was complete. With loud performative sigh he pushed his door open and slipped inside, making a beeline straight from the door to a dressing table with bright holographic lights in a long oval around a mirror. Here the Hapan relaxed a little, assuming privacy. His foot and finger tapped floor and table respectively, still matching the constant beat of the music. For now, his bright amber eyes roamed over himself, and he pulled a few poses in the mirror to look at where the glowing paint was smudged and blurred. He didn’t really seem to be paying much attention to anything else.
Perhaps until his gaze landed on one leaning against the wall in the corner. The man couldn’t have been too much older than Nash, watching the punk star with a careful stare that belayed nothing. No anger, no fan-fantasisings or anything that could indictate why he’d stood in here for… How long?
Once noticed, Cole shifted, straightening a little on his cane. He was pissed he still needed the damn thing but, it was fine.
“I hope I’m not interrupting.”
If he had ears, they’d have visibly perked when the other man’s presence became known. He turned with a smooth motion, his hip meeting the edge of his freezer as he leaned back against it casually. “Oh hey, find your way here after the meet? Or did they give you special access?” The topless Hapan gestured to the cane as he reached over and picked up a shirt off the dresser.
By everything in the galaxy he hated this stupid cane.
Cole didn’t react notably, watching the man saunter around. “I wasn’t here for the show. I just have a couple of questions about Kerissa Monique, then I’ll leave you to it.”
After a moment he added on contemplatively, “Your security isn’t very good.”
His head tilted to the side, hair flopping slightly as his eyebrows furrowed. “Kerissa Dominique? Can’t say I know her.” He smokescreened (Metaphorically) and tossed the shirt, already signed by Pulse towards Cole.
“Free shirt! take it as payment for your thorough investigation into the security here. Sorry, by the way, You’d have to speak with Argus - he handles all the hiring and such. I can’t offer you a security job my self”
Cole caught the shirt and looked down at it for a moment before carefully draping it over a chair. Sofila hadn’t mentioned Pulse before, so, there was little point to keeping it.
“You’ve been photographed together with her. Recently.” The man continued to meter his expression, icy eyes following Nash’s movements, “I’m just confirming her free time’s utilisation. How much time you’re spending with her, if she mentions much about her past and if she does in what matter.”
His smile didn’t waver. “Ah, oh no I see now, yeah. I do know them I think.” He gave a wide grin, hands on his hips with a stupidly Joyful expression.
There was a few moments of quiet. Cole considered how his life ended up here where he couldn’t just deal with this.
“How would you usually jog your memory?”
An expression of confusion crossed his face. He reached up to pick at an ear with a pinkie mindlessly as he responded. “Jog? My memory? It’s perfectly clear, thanks though. Ah! I know.” He turned, reach out out for a small box that held holochips with pre recorded music on it.
“Want it signed?” He glanced over his shoulder, casually tossing the question at Cole as he clicks a pen to sign it anyway.
“I don’t listen to music.” Cole stated. Violence wouldn’t help, threats were worthless without the ability to back it up. Honesty was a potential angle but not knowing how much Jackson knew, it was dangerous. Was he aware of the Brotherhood? He certainly wasn’t in with Arcona specifically but there was an entire military, the Shroud and the Shadow Academy. Nothing had come up initially but secretive operative existed.
It was also heavily possible that this man was simply a punk star and had no idea who the kark he was dating.
“How long have you known Kerissa? I’ve known of her for nearing a year now, we’ve met a couple times.”
Just ignore that one of them she wasn’t conscious for.
With a jerk of his head, the sweat streaked hair of his flipped and landed in a nice puff of black and glow. His hands went to his hips, elbows propped out as his hips pushed to the side. “Ah man, probably like, not too much different than you. Just been a bit I think. Met a couple of times, you know? Just bumped into each other”
He gave a disarming smile, arms moving to cross over his chest. He leaned back, half sitting on the edge of his make-up table. His foot started tapping, beating out randomly to the untrained ear, but actually copying a complex triplicate beat set.
“I have the photo that’s been posted across all the holonet page’s you’re even vaguely relevant to if you want the proof as to why that’s a blatant lie.” Cole answered. If he was bothered by the lying, it wasn’t visible. Nor was he, really. The defence wasn’t greatly useful beyond proving Jackson and Kerissa were a thing, but that was still notable.
“She’s not really the type I’d want to bump into.” He added on after a quiet moment, casually as if it was obvious. As if he was skeptical of Nash’s involvement.
Nash hummed, taping his foot as he gave a contemplative look complete with hand stroking his chin “wisely”. With a flourish, he threw up a finger, as if he had a eureka moment. “Oh yeah yeah, yeah that one.” He nods sagely, his hands going to his hips as fists.
“‘Course I know her. What wouldn’t you want to run into her? She’s lovely” he gave Cole the brightest, cheesy grin he could muster.
Cole was quiet for several moments again. He shifted as if to begin walking, before nodding. “I’m sure she is.”
Then, began to leave, “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
There was nothing more to glean from this man. Though her interaction with him implied that what Connie knew of her was likely no longer true. More research would conclude but it was a positive start.