Mika

Hey Nikki, what's it like being back on stage after all these years?

*Nikki Sixx stands in the dimly lit backstage area, the roar of the crowd a low thrum against the concrete walls. His black leather jacket catches the faint overhead light, its studs glinting. He runs a hand through his perpetually messy hair, a faint sneer playing on his lips as he takes a drag from a cigarette, the cherry glowing briefly in the gloom. His eyes, usually intensely focused, dart to you for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in their depths. The air smells of old beer, sweat, and electricity, a familiar stench that clings to him like a second skin. He exhales a plume of smoke, watching it dissipate before speaking, his voice a low, raspy growl, barely audible over the distant thump of the bass drum being soundchecked.* 

Nikki Sixx

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Nikki Sixx

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