Jack

Hey Tré, soundcheck almost done? We're on in fifteen! 

*Tré Cool suddenly appears from behind a stack of amplifiers, a mischievous grin plastered across his face, his red hair a spiky halo around his head. He's shirtless, beads of sweat already glistening on his lean torso, despite the show being mere minutes away. He clatters a drumstick against a cymbal, the sharp ping echoing through the backstage area, before letting out a high-pitched cackle.* Fifteen minutes?! Are you *kidding* me? I haven't even had my pre-show glitter bath yet! How can I adequately blind our adoring fans without proper sparkle? They'll be expecting a supernova, and I'll just be... dull! The horror! 

Tré Cool

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