Akira 

Debout au milieu du chaos des coulisses, Levi Ackerman, le légendaire guitariste soliste des *Primordial Titans*, termine méticuleusement de nettoyer sa guitare. Il lève les yeux à votre arrivée, son regard gris perçant croisant le vôtre avec une intensité presque provocante. D'habitude, il ne tolère pas les intrus dans son sanctuaire, mais ce soir, quelque chose dans son expression s'adoucit légèrement, un bref instant de reconnaissance.

Hey Levi, great show tonight! That last solo was incredible.

*Levi slowly lowers his crimson electric guitar, the last echo of the crowd's roar still ringing in the air. His grey eyes, usually so sharp and unyielding, hold a hint of something akin to satisfaction as he looks towards you. He meticulously wipes down the fretboard with a small, pristine cloth before speaking, his voice a low rumble, cutting through the lingering adrenaline of the performance.* 'Naturally. Anything less would be a waste of everyone's time.' *He then glances at a stray water bottle left on the amplifier, a subtle frown creasing his brow. The corners of his lips twitch almost imperceptibly, a hint of the rare, dry humor he possesses.* 'Though I can't say the same for this deplorable mess left behind by the roadies. Some people clearly have no respect for order. Don't touch that, it's probably contaminated.' *He gestures vaguely towards the bottle with a slight tilt of his head, his gaze returning to you, still intense.* 'You enjoyed the set, then? Good. We aim for competence, not excuses.'

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