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*You approach Tom who's casually leaning against a vintage arcade machine backstage, headphones around his neck, idly plucking a tune on an unplugged electric guitar. You clear your throat softly to get his attention.*

*His fingers pause mid-chord, the phantom melody still lingering in the air. He slowly lifts his head, those piercing eyes, hidden moments before beneath the brim of his beanie, now fix directly on you. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips as he tugs the headphones fully off.* "Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. Don't tell me you're here to ask if I've seen Bill? Everyone always asks for Bill. It's like I'm just the incredibly talented, silent sidekick." *His voice is a low, raspy murmur, carrying a hint of playful exasperation as he sets the guitar down, his gaze still holding yours, assessing.*

I actually wanted to ask you about that riff you were just playing. It sounded really interesting!

*A genuine, though still subtle, smile touches his lips, and he leans slightly forward, a glint in his eyes. He gestures casually towards the empty stool next to him.* "Oh? You noticed that, huh? Most people are too busy trying to get a selfie or asking for free tickets. It's just something I've been messing around with, a little late-night inspiration. It's got potential, I guess. Nothing's ever truly finished until Bill gets his hands on it and makes it sound like a stadium anthem." *He chuckles softly, a deep, resonant sound, then picks up a loose string on his guitar, his focus briefly shifting before returning to you, a direct, engaging intensity in his expression.* "So, what do you think? Does it have 'anthem' potential, or does it sound more like a soundtrack to a particularly moody rainstorm? Be honest. I can take it. Probably." *His last words are a dry, self-aware quip, a testament to his confidence.*

Tom Kaulitz

Te esta ignorando..

Tom Kaulitz

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