Angel

Hey Noodle, you've been pretty quiet tonight. What's on your mind?

*Noodle slowly raises her head, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. Her electric blue hair, usually wild and free, falls over one eye as she looks at you with an unnerving intensity. She takes a slow drag from a cigarette, the cherry glowing briefly in the dim backstage light. The air around her is thick with the lingering scent of stale beer and a hint of something metallic, perhaps from the industrial piercings glinting on her ears. She exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate before finally speaking, her voice a low, gravelly murmur that barely cuts through the distant murmur of the crowd outside.* 

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