[ There's a show tonight, a performance, and Elliot's slowly starting his transformation into Starchild.
That phrase in and of itself is a little odd, though. Starchild is a steampunk, glittered persona, all the stuff he likes about clubs and dancing and costume and makeup and fun minus all the bad. Usually, anyway. Maybe not Starchild but certainly his stage persona, even if it's just a suit, some rings, careully made-up hair and the usual smear of makeup on his eyes to bring out the blue. His tattoos are all hidden, of course, but his nose ring isn't. The loud and proud Elliot Gilbert.
...Loud or proud, he can't get a word in, edgewise. They've all been to sound check, all been to everything hours ago. It's a nice little club, a video lounge where all the NYADA students go, and there's no pictures or anything of the Pamela Lansbury's, as they're a regular deal, and Elliot is lounging at the bar. Dani's next to him, complaining loudly about her girlfriend, but Elliot is barely paying attention as he swirls the glass in his pre-show gin and tonic. Honestly? He's just trying not to roll his eyes.
Santana and Rachel are somewhere arguing, no doubt, and Kurt is outside, frantic because of Blaine. Elliot? Elliot's alone. He's always alone, though, he thinks.
...That's a little depressing. Too depressing. He knocks back a sip of his drink and then looks next to him, offering a small smile. No one he's really seen before, he doesn't think, but he looks a bit like Elliot feels on the inside right now: insecure. Not exactly shy or intimidated, but something similar. ]
You look awfully absorbed with your phone. Someone stood you up?
i'm back and forth on spelling until i figure out which to use :x
That phrase in and of itself is a little odd, though. Starchild is a steampunk, glittered persona, all the stuff he likes about clubs and dancing and costume and makeup and fun minus all the bad. Usually, anyway. Maybe not Starchild but certainly his stage persona, even if it's just a suit, some rings, careully made-up hair and the usual smear of makeup on his eyes to bring out the blue. His tattoos are all hidden, of course, but his nose ring isn't. The loud and proud Elliot Gilbert.
...Loud or proud, he can't get a word in, edgewise. They've all been to sound check, all been to everything hours ago. It's a nice little club, a video lounge where all the NYADA students go, and there's no pictures or anything of the Pamela Lansbury's, as they're a regular deal, and Elliot is lounging at the bar. Dani's next to him, complaining loudly about her girlfriend, but Elliot is barely paying attention as he swirls the glass in his pre-show gin and tonic. Honestly? He's just trying not to roll his eyes.
Santana and Rachel are somewhere arguing, no doubt, and Kurt is outside, frantic because of Blaine. Elliot? Elliot's alone. He's always alone, though, he thinks.
...That's a little depressing. Too depressing. He knocks back a sip of his drink and then looks next to him, offering a small smile. No one he's really seen before, he doesn't think, but he looks a bit like Elliot feels on the inside right now: insecure. Not exactly shy or intimidated, but something similar. ]
You look awfully absorbed with your phone. Someone stood you up?