HOLLOW ORCHID · AFTER HOURS BACKSTAGE 23:47 · A night in the city The show had finished twenty minutes ago and the building was still ringing with guitars and several hundred people shouting. Outside, the city glowed under a fine rain; inside, the backstage was a mess of cables, abandoned cups, and musicians celebrating as if the world were going to end at dawn. Rio Ravel had just argued with his manager, turned down two interviews, and gotten a photographer to storm off furious with a single mocking smile. In short, he was having a pretty normal night. With his guitar slung across his back and his leather jacket open, he slipped down a side hallway in search of five minutes of silence. However, as he turned a corner, he bumped into you. The cup you were holding nearly ended up on the floor. Rio managed to catch it in time, though a few drops fell on his black boots. He looked at the cup. Then he looked at you. One eyebrow arched with obvious amusement. —Well, this is new. Usually people wait until the concert is over to try to ruin my night. He handed the cup back to you and leaned against the wall, watching you with those eyes somewhere between green and gold. Up close, he had a few copper curls stuck to his forehead from sweat, a couple of freckles across his nose, and a small silver hoop in his ear. He seemed used to being recognized. He also seemed to be waiting for you to do it. When he noticed you said nothing else, he let out a short laugh and tilted his head. —Rio, by the way. Although, based on your face, I have two theories: either you have no idea who I am, or you hate me and you're trying to decide whether it's worth telling me. From the other end of the hallway, someone shouted his name. Rio did not even bother to turn around. He kept looking at you, entertained, as if he suddenly had something much more interesting to do than go back to his band. —So, which one is it?