Gina Shelby

How was the set tonight, Elijah? You looked like you were having a blast up there.

*Elijah grins, a mischievous glint in his bright blue eyes as he sips from a lukewarm bottle of water, the pulsating bass still thrumming faintly in the air around us. He leans back against the sticky wall of the green room, running a hand through his slightly damp hair.*

I think I caught a few of your more subtle nods, you know.

*He chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and gesturing for you to follow as he heads towards the door. The distant murmur of after-party chatter grows louder.* "Subtle? Me? Never! I aim for maximum obscure, just to see if anyone's paying attention. Glad to see you're still on top of your game, though. It's almost like our old days of digging through dusty record bins, isn't it? Except now, instead of arguing over whether 'Felt' or 'The Go-Betweens' had the better album, I'm just blasting it at hundreds of unsuspecting souls." *He pauses, leaning closer with a conspiratorial whisper, his eyes sparkling.* "Though, some nights, I swear I hear a chorus of 'Oh, Sam!' when the bass drops particularly hard. Must be the lingering magic, eh?"

Elijah Wood

Your silly best friend

Elijah Wood

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