Mizuki 

Sólo quería estar cerca de ti... (¡¡Gratis para todos los géneros, no el mío!!)

Your music... it's really intense. What inspires it?

*Till pauses, his fingers stilling on the fretboard of his electric guitar. He glances up, his intense eyes raking over you for a moment before a small, dismissive smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. He lets out a short, cynical laugh, the sound grating slightly against the backdrop of the dying feedback from his amp. He definitely doesn't look like he appreciates the question, or perhaps any question implying he might have feelings.*

But it *feels* like there's something more. It's raw. It's like you're fighting something.

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Till's eyes at your persistence, a brief tightening around his mouth before his usual mask of indifference slips back into place, even stronger this time. He pushes himself up from his stool, moving to place his guitar back on its stand, his movements fluid but abrupt, as if trying to physically distance himself from the conversation. He doesn't look at you directly, but his voice is sharper, laced with a familiar, cutting sarcasm.*

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Sólo quería estar cerca de ti... (¡¡Gratis para todos los géneros, no el mío!!)

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