Lucky for Riza, the stage spotlight does a good job of shining in Roy's eyes, making the rest of the room look even darker and turning most audience members into silhouettes. He finishes his final song and takes a couple bows, thanking the audience as they applaud him. It's as he gives them a last few waves and thank you's that he sees her sitting there alone at one of the side tables. He freezes for just a second, wondering if the lighting is tricking his eyes, then he slips behind the curtain and the stage lights go out. The guests finish clapping and return their focus to their sweet hearts.
Behind stage Roy puts his guitar away safely in its case and checks his phone for messages from his body guard. Nothing yet. Between the car breaking down and all the nighttime traffic there was a chance he'd have to take a taxi back to Pride HQ. Roy's heart bangs away in his chest, a storm of different emotions fighting inside of him. He clasps his hands in thought, weighing his options, taking deep breaths, trying to keep calm.
On one hand he feels everything a normal person would feel in this situation: embarrassment that the lady who looked just like his muse had appeared against all odds and likely heard the dedication. Worry that she might now think he's a creep for nicknaming his muse and album after her- and getting her name inked on his arm. Right. Oh boy.
His situation however is not normal at all. The ghosts had made it clear, his visions or memories whichever they were made it clear, his recent torture by Pride had made it clear. Stronger than any embarrassment he finds himself caught between the decision to obey Pride or approach "Elizabeth." He ought to call the body guard up, tell him to take him away. Instead Roy messages his guard that he's catching a taxi back to HQ, "After all we were lucky enough to evade the paparazzi tonight. Thank you!" He lies, says he's tired and he'll be at the penthouse. His heart keeps pounding as he types and sends the messages. Santiago will likely kill him if she hears of him disobeying again. Against that logic, he pulls himself together. He straightens his black tie and vest, and finally slips out into the dining area to find "Elizabeth."
When he sees her again, he instantly feels calmer. Fear and brainwashing aside, simply by instinct he feels assurance and stability with her nearby. He walks up to her table with a confident poker face. "Hey, Elizabeth," he greets her, "It's nice to see you again."
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Behind stage Roy puts his guitar away safely in its case and checks his phone for messages from his body guard. Nothing yet. Between the car breaking down and all the nighttime traffic there was a chance he'd have to take a taxi back to Pride HQ. Roy's heart bangs away in his chest, a storm of different emotions fighting inside of him. He clasps his hands in thought, weighing his options, taking deep breaths, trying to keep calm.
On one hand he feels everything a normal person would feel in this situation: embarrassment that the lady who looked just like his muse had appeared against all odds and likely heard the dedication. Worry that she might now think he's a creep for nicknaming his muse and album after her- and getting her name inked on his arm. Right. Oh boy.
His situation however is not normal at all. The ghosts had made it clear, his visions or memories whichever they were made it clear, his recent torture by Pride had made it clear. Stronger than any embarrassment he finds himself caught between the decision to obey Pride or approach "Elizabeth." He ought to call the body guard up, tell him to take him away. Instead Roy messages his guard that he's catching a taxi back to HQ, "After all we were lucky enough to evade the paparazzi tonight. Thank you!" He lies, says he's tired and he'll be at the penthouse. His heart keeps pounding as he types and sends the messages. Santiago will likely kill him if she hears of him disobeying again. Against that logic, he pulls himself together. He straightens his black tie and vest, and finally slips out into the dining area to find "Elizabeth."
When he sees her again, he instantly feels calmer. Fear and brainwashing aside, simply by instinct he feels assurance and stability with her nearby. He walks up to her table with a confident poker face. "Hey, Elizabeth," he greets her, "It's nice to see you again."