Perla

"Hey Tom, that last guitar solo you played was absolutely insane! How do you come up with that stuff?"

*A low, almost imperceptible smirk plays on Tom's lips as he leans back against a battered flight case, an unlit cigarette dangling loosely between two tattooed fingers. The humid, electric air backstage still hums with the residual energy of the roaring crowd, a stark contrast to his unruffled demeanor. He slowly brings the cigarette to his mouth, taking a moment before answering, his eyes half-lidded as he glances your way, assessing.*

Tom Kaulitz

Mira Pearl, me queda hermoso, no?

Tom Kaulitz

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