[Goddamnit woman, check that smile. Tommy hears himself think it in Joel's voice and shakes his head, smiling back at her despite himself. How could he not? He's got blood crawling down his neck, she's certainly some degree of concussed, she, Eddie Munson and he's walking with her to medical after a little brush with either death or disfigurement, Tommy's not sure he wants to parse which was closer.]
Just one brother. [He doesn't say it with a sigh, but. Tommy's basically ready at all times for what follows, because it always does. Your brother's so good lookin', Tommy. Even though most of the time Joel refuses, because he's still off-and-on again hung up on his ex-wife. Used to be that Tommy didn't mind when the girls came back after Joel turned them down but that phase of his life didn't last through the army. Now he's disappointed, sure, but he's got more self-worth now.] Year and a half older, as Irish as you can get despite. [He shrugs.] The tan.
[ Considering she has no idea what Tommy's brother looks like, she's not going to follow that question up with anything at all. Though, if pressed, she'd probably say she's sure that the man's handsome, after all, his baby brother looks like that.
She sways into him a little bit again, just to see if he'll tighten his grip on her. Normally she's not super into men laying their hands on her all willy-nilly and shit, but Tommy's earned a little leeway, what with him having just saved her life and all that. ]
Where you boys from? [ she asks, instead of voicing any comments she might make on the Irishness or lack thereof of his complexion. ] You don't sound like you're from Indiana.
[Yeah, leeway, and the fact that she's listing like a sailboat who's gotten the brunt end of bad weather.] Indiana? Nah. [Tommy points through the pop-up tents to where one a few rows back still waves a rather limp red cross on white background.]
Austin. This's our first big major tour; mostly stuck to Texas aside from a poke or two to southern California and circuit around the Four Corners.
[ Eddie's almost disappointed that they've finally forged through enough mud to make it to the medical tent. She'd rather been enjoying the chance to talk to him uninterrupted, and his hand on her arm is really warm.
She's in the process of trying to come up with something to say about how it's a good thing he's not from Indiana, because Indiana is a shithole of a state and she's been trying to get out of it her entire life, when he drops that both he and his brother are on the tour. Finally, enough hints have percolated through her banged-up brain that she's able to grasp at some information she knew she knew that was just out of reach the whole night. ]
Oh! You're, um. You're that duo that replaced what's-their-name. God, they were assholes. The, um, Miller Brothers, right?
[ She's back to grinning at him again, her eyes crinkling a little at the corners. ] I can't believe we've not run into each other yet, I'm so sorry, you must think I'm such a fucking diva I can't even introduce myself to the other acts.
[ She sticks her hand out at him like they're not already acquainted, dimpling at him in the misting rain. ] Welcome to the tour, papi.
Tommy opens his mouth once to say the Miller Brothers were assholes? but instead just nods as she goes on and then he opens his mouth to say there's twelve bands here and it's not like we drive together why would I think you're a diva? but instead gets hit smack in the face with papi. Fuckin' papi.
Ignoring the outstretched hand, Tommy faces Eddie and very seriously takes both of her shoulders in hand.] Thanks. Don't call me that.
[ Eddie's already half-laughing as he steps around her and plonks both his hands on her shoulders, giving her a serious look that she can't quite tell if is just a cover or not.
His hands are very warm. ]
Does it really bother you? [ To her credit, despite the laugh tucked in the corner of her mouth, she does seem sincere as she looks at him through spiky lashes and tries to get her expression under control. Her hands lift to circle his wrists, holding onto him right back. ] I'm sorry, I'll stop.
[He shouldn't want to kiss her. Stop wanting to kiss her, you idiot.]
Yeah, I'm a Miller brother, no, you're not a diva - that I know of - and it doesn't bother me as much as might embarrass you, papi is... [Tommy lifts a hand from her shoulder to make a broad but absent gesture.] Y'know. Kinda sexual.
[Is he blushing? Of course not. And if he were, well. A tan hides all sins. Right?]
[ Eddie's expression melts — she can feel it happening, her stupid expressive face is such a burden and a curse — as he explains his reluctance to let her keep calling him papi. She even goes so far as to bite her bottom lip, just for a moment, just until she can get herself under control.
The laugh still bubbles up in her voice as she responds, though. ]
Tommy. I know that. [ She grins at him, her eyebrows quirking under her wet bangs. ] I may have failed high school Spanish multiple times in a row, but even I know that papi means daddy.
[ She'd been under the impression that it was slightly less charged in Spanish versus in English, just from pop culture osmosis, but it's not like it was a secret as to what the word meant. She stands by her initial joke, though. One look at Tommy Miller all wet and heroic and she knew she'd picked the right nickname for him. ]
[Cultural charges don't really come into play when a slightly younger, unrelated by blood female is calling an older male daddy. But goddamn that laugh. Tommy snorts and shoves Eddie backward, lightly, playful. (Ready to grab her.)] Don't treasure it, but as long as you know what people around you are gonna think when they hear it, go with God. Chica.
[He points toward the medical tent.] But go with first-aid, first.
[ He can shove her if he wants, she's still got her hands around his wrists, and she knows him well enough now to know that if she really did stumble, he'd lunge forward to catch her. She's fine.
His permission makes him beam at him again, and she even goes so far as to wink at him. ]
Ugh, fine. [ She debates for a second being extra obnoxious and trying to use papi again, but decides to let the matter lie. For now. ] But you have to come with me. You're still bleeding, and while it looks very manly and sexy and shit, you probably need stitches. Or at least a butterfly bandage.
[ She ducks out from under his grip but continues to hang on to him so she can tow him into the tent with her, waving at the paramedic who'd clearly been briefed about their arrival based on the look on his face. ] And if either of us walk backstage without getting checked out Stevie's going to blow a gasket for real.
Stevie ain't gonna give a good goddamn about me, [Tommy mutters as Eddie drags him forward into the tent and into the waiting arms of the medical staff. If he'd thought a few steps ahead he'd admit that he was hoping to drop Eddie off and about-face.] And you don't need to blow smoke up my ass, I'm use enough to injuries, I just figured-
[He'd tried to turn, but a slight woman with a terrifying expression on her face steps in front of him and points to a chair, and Tommy sits. He swallows. Wants to ask for something, drugs, maybe, basic prescription shit, but doesn't. Rubs his forehead with fingers while he's examined.] She clocked the back of her head good on the stage, [he mutters at the guy helping Eddie - just so she doesn't get off light.]
That's what you think, [ she mutters darkly, well-acquainted with Stevie's habit of picking up strays. For an only child and someone who was honestly kind of a bitch most of their academic career, Stevie collects wayward ducklings even worse than Eddie does. Tommy had the bad luck to be bleeding in front of her, now she's going to check up on him at least for the next few days.
Most men wouldn't be stupid enough to complain about Stevie Harrington worrying about them.
She narrows her eyes accusatorily at him when he narcs on her to the paramedics, but then turns around and gives a sweet smile to the woman checking him over. Two can play at that game. ] He probably has glass down his shirt from where the fresnal shattered. You should maybe get him to take it off.
[Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and gives Eddie a look that he's realized by now is gonna roll right off her back. He shouldn't be impressed. He shouldn't preempt the doctor by edging toward the front of his hair and grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
...actually, he probably shouldn't have; Tommy's at a loss as to how to one-up Eddie at this point and the doctor behind him puts a hand on his shoulder as she says you're going to need stitches in at least two spots and Tommy deflates, frowning.]
[ The fact that Tommy glares at her does roll right off her back, Eddie just gives him the most angelic look she can manage — admittedly, not all that angelic, although her big brown eyes do a lot of heavy lifting on that front — before pointedly cooperating with the medic who's giving her a work-over, smiling beatifically like butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.
Her expression turns a lot more triumphant when Tommy actually scoots forward a little and grabs for his shirt, yanking it up and off in one smooth motion that Eddie shamelessly ogles.
She didn't think he'd actually do it. Her glee is tempered a little by the pronouncement that he actually will need stitches, a little frown creasing her eyebrows even as she follows her medic's finger as he moves it from side to side, his bright-ass pen light shining into her face as he presumably checks her pupils. He gives her a cold pack for her head, rattles off instructions that she could recite in her sleep, and then moves away from her, presumably to assist his colleague.
Eddie drags her chair over to Tommy and sits herself down beside him, shoulder to shoulder again. ]
Nice ink. [ Yes, she is going to sit here with him while he gets stitched up, and no, she's not going to say anything about it. She hates getting stitches. It's the literal worst. She's here to act as moral support. ] I figured from the shirt you were Army, but that's cinched it.
[He's gotten stitches before; not a big deal, but he'll take Eddie any way he can get her. He looks over, damp curls swinging from the mostly defeated tail.] Cliche walking. [Regarding himself, nodding at her.] Ain't got nothing on you, though. So - no concussion. [It's not a question because he's taken a tour of this tent already a time or two in the last months and knows they know what they're doing.
And he knows what the doctor behind him is doing as gloves touch his back. Tommy breathes in, and out. This, is a known. This is steadying. There's no flinching as the sutures go into skin; Tommy's focused on Eddie.] I was a sniper in the Gulf War. Suppose yours are... self-expression?
[There's a curl to the corner of his lips; maybe it's him getting the last jab after all.]
[ Eddie considers whether or not she should bristle playfully at being obliquely called a cliche, but he's not wrong. She is a cliche, and she embraces it. There's nothing wrong with that, not really. She's mellowed out a lot about the concept of selling out and following trends and being authentic over the last few years. As long as you're happy, then that's what's important in her book.
She picks at a hole in her soaking wet jeans. ] Borderline. I'm to take it easy for the next few days. [ Which probably isn't going to happen, as everyone around here knows. Eddie's on stage nearly every night. There's no such thing as taking it easy when you're on tour, not when you're the talent.
Tommy keeps himself perfectly still and breathes with the focused rhythm of Stevie on her worst days, which is what prompts her to shift a little closer so their elbows are touching, a little point of contact he can easily lean into or lean away from, depending on how he's feeling. ]
My uncle served in Vietnam. [ Not the same thing, she knows that, but similar. Enough that she gets it, at least a little. ] And yes. My tattoos express the fact that I'm cool as fuck and have incredible taste.
[ She's obviously joking, her eyes twinkling as she smirks at him, inviting him in to join in the joke. ]
[The lean-in is accepted. Not leaned into or away - it just is. Tommy offers her a full grin for the first time.] Doesn't sound like a brag at all. [And then he winces, with a small mierda under his breath as a piece of glass is pulled from under his skin. He exhales.] Glad I didn't brain you.
[ Damn, that smile is dangerous. Eddie can suddenly see how this man probably cut a swath through the girls of Austin, Texas with a grin like that and curls like those, especially if he was in uniform.
Eddie has a very dim view of the American Military Industrial Complex, and even she's not immune to the power of a well-fitting uniform. ]
They also express that I'm super humble and down to earth.
[ Her little chuckle gets cut short as Tommy winces and swears softly, prompting her to press her arm against his a little more firmly, her brow creasing in sympathy as she keeps her eyes resolutely on his face and not on the blue hands behind him doing whatever it is they're doing. ]
Yeah, I'm pretty glad about that too. [ She shifts, reaching out and covering his hand with hers, slipping her fingers into his palm and squeezing briefly. ] Thank you.
[Yeah, you'd think that. Except he never could manage to get far enough away. From Joel, and Javier. Tommy grew up in two very long, cold shadows. At least his brother stuck around.
His hand is still for a moment in Eddie's; the stitches resume and finally Tommy shakes his head, his thumb skating a light line over her knuckle.] You're welcome. For not braining you. Is this the right time to admit I'm a big fan?
[ She's about to remove her hand when Tommy's fingers curl in response, his thumb brushing over her skin, and she relaxes into the press of her arm against his. ]
Are you really? [ She seems genuinely tickled by that admission, her dimple creasing her cheek and a soft wash of pink staining the bridge of her nose. ] I'm embarrassed to admit I haven't really heard any of your music. I'm going to fix that oversight tonight, I promise.
[It's easy to be down on Joel because Tommy loves him; his brother has never stopped him from living and in fact he'd done his damnedest to help fill in taking care of him whenever he could. Can't hate someone you don't love, not in the same way - and Tommy loves the hell out of his older brother.]
Only if you wanna.
[But hey, well. Joel's also the front man and main voice of the Miller Brothers. Joel is what carries out of the speakers as the front-man. Right now that doesn't feel like something he wants to love about Joel.] I'll still be a fan anyway. Get goosebumps every damn time I hear you sing 'Cassandra'."
[ Eddie's cultivated something of a specific look, there's no denying it, but even when she was in high school and was prone to going on impassioned rants about conformity and The Man, she'd still listen to a far more varied selection of music than people would have believed just by looking at her.
She knows enough about the Miller Brothers to have a vague understanding of their musical style, or at least, she can make an educated guess, and now that she knows 50% of the band, she's going to give it an honest shot at listening and finding something to enjoy.
Especially if Tommy's going to keep complimenting her like that. You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now, at this stage in her career, but you'd be wrong. ]
Stop it. [ That pink across her nose is staining her cheeks now, too. ] You don't have to keep buttering me up, papi, I already like you.
[At the snort, Tommy raises dark eyebrows at Eddie - see? - and shakes his head but it's all undermined by the continued presence of a smile. He reaches out and it might seem like he's gonna trace that flush that's crawling across her nose... until he flicks it instead, very lightly. No moving, Miller, the doctor mutters.
Tommy lowers his head just so toward Eddie, and his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.] People know me around here, chica. You're gonna ruin my reputation.
[ Eddie raises her eyebrows right back at him — worth it — and wrinkles her nose when he lifts his hand to flick it. The look she gives him should make it clear his side is spared from being gouged by her pointy elbow only because he's currently in the hands of medical professionals.
Eddie's been an only child all her life, but somehow she's still developed the same sparring urges siblings have, and she's never been able to turn down the opportunity to try and one-up someone, no matter how stupid and petty it may be.
She'll jab him later. ]
Tommy. [ She takes his hand again, exaggeratedly sympathetic. ] You've spent the past hour with me. The whole crew watched you dive across the stage just to pin me to the ground. That ship has already sailed.
[Makes you sound like a sex pest, papi. All done. The paramedic rolls the last bandaid on over the final two sutures as Tommy turns back over his shoulder, mouth open. The woman winks before peeling away gloves. Get outta here, both of you, we all want to be wrapping up. Munson, seriously. Take it easy. Headache that won't go away and you call one of us.
Tommy stands as she's talking and looks at the wet, bloody twist of his shirt for just a moment before the other paramedic is handing him something dry. Lost and Found, he says as he gets back to clearing down. 'Eddie and the Dead Girls' is the headliner of the acts listed on the back of the festival merch but hell if he and Joel ain't there too, down toward the bottom. Tommy glances at it before climbing carefully into the cotton. Handshakes are exchanged.]
Thanks, Doc. C'mon, Trouble.[Tommy pulls the tarp back for Eddie to pass through ahead of him.
Outside even the mist has moved on and while one couldn't call it a beautiful - too many clouds still to catch stars - it's not bad. The rain's pushed the humidity on through, leaving something like a warm, clean night behind. In his pocket, Tommy's phone buzzes. JOEL: Nobody committed murder, not yet anyway. I'm sat at the hotel bar for now. Back later. He tucks it away.] Suppose this is where... well. You should probably get some sleep.
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Just one brother. [He doesn't say it with a sigh, but. Tommy's basically ready at all times for what follows, because it always does. Your brother's so good lookin', Tommy. Even though most of the time Joel refuses, because he's still off-and-on again hung up on his ex-wife. Used to be that Tommy didn't mind when the girls came back after Joel turned them down but that phase of his life didn't last through the army. Now he's disappointed, sure, but he's got more self-worth now.] Year and a half older, as Irish as you can get despite. [He shrugs.] The tan.
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She sways into him a little bit again, just to see if he'll tighten his grip on her. Normally she's not super into men laying their hands on her all willy-nilly and shit, but Tommy's earned a little leeway, what with him having just saved her life and all that. ]
Where you boys from? [ she asks, instead of voicing any comments she might make on the Irishness or lack thereof of his complexion. ] You don't sound like you're from Indiana.
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Austin. This's our first big major tour; mostly stuck to Texas aside from a poke or two to southern California and circuit around the Four Corners.
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She's in the process of trying to come up with something to say about how it's a good thing he's not from Indiana, because Indiana is a shithole of a state and she's been trying to get out of it her entire life, when he drops that both he and his brother are on the tour. Finally, enough hints have percolated through her banged-up brain that she's able to grasp at some information she knew she knew that was just out of reach the whole night. ]
Oh! You're, um. You're that duo that replaced what's-their-name. God, they were assholes. The, um, Miller Brothers, right?
[ She's back to grinning at him again, her eyes crinkling a little at the corners. ] I can't believe we've not run into each other yet, I'm so sorry, you must think I'm such a fucking diva I can't even introduce myself to the other acts.
[ She sticks her hand out at him like they're not already acquainted, dimpling at him in the misting rain. ] Welcome to the tour, papi.
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Tommy opens his mouth once to say the Miller Brothers were assholes? but instead just nods as she goes on and then he opens his mouth to say there's twelve bands here and it's not like we drive together why would I think you're a diva? but instead gets hit smack in the face with papi. Fuckin' papi.
Ignoring the outstretched hand, Tommy faces Eddie and very seriously takes both of her shoulders in hand.] Thanks. Don't call me that.
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His hands are very warm. ]
Does it really bother you? [ To her credit, despite the laugh tucked in the corner of her mouth, she does seem sincere as she looks at him through spiky lashes and tries to get her expression under control. Her hands lift to circle his wrists, holding onto him right back. ] I'm sorry, I'll stop.
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Yeah, I'm a Miller brother, no, you're not a diva - that I know of - and it doesn't bother me as much as might embarrass you, papi is... [Tommy lifts a hand from her shoulder to make a broad but absent gesture.] Y'know. Kinda sexual.
[Is he blushing? Of course not. And if he were, well. A tan hides all sins. Right?]
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The laugh still bubbles up in her voice as she responds, though. ]
Tommy. I know that. [ She grins at him, her eyebrows quirking under her wet bangs. ] I may have failed high school Spanish multiple times in a row, but even I know that papi means daddy.
[ She'd been under the impression that it was slightly less charged in Spanish versus in English, just from pop culture osmosis, but it's not like it was a secret as to what the word meant. She stands by her initial joke, though. One look at Tommy Miller all wet and heroic and she knew she'd picked the right nickname for him. ]
But I really will stop if you don't like it.
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[He points toward the medical tent.] But go with first-aid, first.
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His permission makes him beam at him again, and she even goes so far as to wink at him. ]
Ugh, fine. [ She debates for a second being extra obnoxious and trying to use papi again, but decides to let the matter lie. For now. ] But you have to come with me. You're still bleeding, and while it looks very manly and sexy and shit, you probably need stitches. Or at least a butterfly bandage.
[ She ducks out from under his grip but continues to hang on to him so she can tow him into the tent with her, waving at the paramedic who'd clearly been briefed about their arrival based on the look on his face. ] And if either of us walk backstage without getting checked out Stevie's going to blow a gasket for real.
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[He'd tried to turn, but a slight woman with a terrifying expression on her face steps in front of him and points to a chair, and Tommy sits. He swallows. Wants to ask for something, drugs, maybe, basic prescription shit, but doesn't. Rubs his forehead with fingers while he's examined.] She clocked the back of her head good on the stage, [he mutters at the guy helping Eddie - just so she doesn't get off light.]
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Most men wouldn't be stupid enough to complain about Stevie Harrington worrying about them.
She narrows her eyes accusatorily at him when he narcs on her to the paramedics, but then turns around and gives a sweet smile to the woman checking him over. Two can play at that game. ] He probably has glass down his shirt from where the fresnal shattered. You should maybe get him to take it off.
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[Tommy bites the inside of his cheek and gives Eddie a look that he's realized by now is gonna roll right off her back. He shouldn't be impressed. He shouldn't preempt the doctor by edging toward the front of his hair and grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.
...actually, he probably shouldn't have; Tommy's at a loss as to how to one-up Eddie at this point and the doctor behind him puts a hand on his shoulder as she says you're going to need stitches in at least two spots and Tommy deflates, frowning.]
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Her expression turns a lot more triumphant when Tommy actually scoots forward a little and grabs for his shirt, yanking it up and off in one smooth motion that Eddie shamelessly ogles.
She didn't think he'd actually do it. Her glee is tempered a little by the pronouncement that he actually will need stitches, a little frown creasing her eyebrows even as she follows her medic's finger as he moves it from side to side, his bright-ass pen light shining into her face as he presumably checks her pupils. He gives her a cold pack for her head, rattles off instructions that she could recite in her sleep, and then moves away from her, presumably to assist his colleague.
Eddie drags her chair over to Tommy and sits herself down beside him, shoulder to shoulder again. ]
Nice ink. [ Yes, she is going to sit here with him while he gets stitched up, and no, she's not going to say anything about it. She hates getting stitches. It's the literal worst. She's here to act as moral support. ] I figured from the shirt you were Army, but that's cinched it.
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And he knows what the doctor behind him is doing as gloves touch his back. Tommy breathes in, and out. This, is a known. This is steadying. There's no flinching as the sutures go into skin; Tommy's focused on Eddie.] I was a sniper in the Gulf War. Suppose yours are... self-expression?
[There's a curl to the corner of his lips; maybe it's him getting the last jab after all.]
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She picks at a hole in her soaking wet jeans. ] Borderline. I'm to take it easy for the next few days. [ Which probably isn't going to happen, as everyone around here knows. Eddie's on stage nearly every night. There's no such thing as taking it easy when you're on tour, not when you're the talent.
Tommy keeps himself perfectly still and breathes with the focused rhythm of Stevie on her worst days, which is what prompts her to shift a little closer so their elbows are touching, a little point of contact he can easily lean into or lean away from, depending on how he's feeling. ]
My uncle served in Vietnam. [ Not the same thing, she knows that, but similar. Enough that she gets it, at least a little. ] And yes. My tattoos express the fact that I'm cool as fuck and have incredible taste.
[ She's obviously joking, her eyes twinkling as she smirks at him, inviting him in to join in the joke. ]
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Eddie has a very dim view of the American Military Industrial Complex, and even she's not immune to the power of a well-fitting uniform. ]
They also express that I'm super humble and down to earth.
[ Her little chuckle gets cut short as Tommy winces and swears softly, prompting her to press her arm against his a little more firmly, her brow creasing in sympathy as she keeps her eyes resolutely on his face and not on the blue hands behind him doing whatever it is they're doing. ]
Yeah, I'm pretty glad about that too. [ She shifts, reaching out and covering his hand with hers, slipping her fingers into his palm and squeezing briefly. ] Thank you.
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His hand is still for a moment in Eddie's; the stitches resume and finally Tommy shakes his head, his thumb skating a light line over her knuckle.] You're welcome. For not braining you. Is this the right time to admit I'm a big fan?
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Are you really? [ She seems genuinely tickled by that admission, her dimple creasing her cheek and a soft wash of pink staining the bridge of her nose. ] I'm embarrassed to admit I haven't really heard any of your music. I'm going to fix that oversight tonight, I promise.
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Only if you wanna.
[But hey, well. Joel's also the front man and main voice of the Miller Brothers. Joel is what carries out of the speakers as the front-man. Right now that doesn't feel like something he wants to love about Joel.] I'll still be a fan anyway. Get goosebumps every damn time I hear you sing 'Cassandra'."
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[ Eddie's cultivated something of a specific look, there's no denying it, but even when she was in high school and was prone to going on impassioned rants about conformity and The Man, she'd still listen to a far more varied selection of music than people would have believed just by looking at her.
She knows enough about the Miller Brothers to have a vague understanding of their musical style, or at least, she can make an educated guess, and now that she knows 50% of the band, she's going to give it an honest shot at listening and finding something to enjoy.
Especially if Tommy's going to keep complimenting her like that. You'd think she'd have gotten used to it by now, at this stage in her career, but you'd be wrong. ]
Stop it. [ That pink across her nose is staining her cheeks now, too. ] You don't have to keep buttering me up, papi, I already like you.
[ The paramedic behind them snorts. ]
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Tommy lowers his head just so toward Eddie, and his voice to a conspiratorial whisper.] People know me around here, chica. You're gonna ruin my reputation.
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Eddie's been an only child all her life, but somehow she's still developed the same sparring urges siblings have, and she's never been able to turn down the opportunity to try and one-up someone, no matter how stupid and petty it may be.
She'll jab him later. ]
Tommy. [ She takes his hand again, exaggeratedly sympathetic. ] You've spent the past hour with me. The whole crew watched you dive across the stage just to pin me to the ground. That ship has already sailed.
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Tommy stands as she's talking and looks at the wet, bloody twist of his shirt for just a moment before the other paramedic is handing him something dry. Lost and Found, he says as he gets back to clearing down. 'Eddie and the Dead Girls' is the headliner of the acts listed on the back of the festival merch but hell if he and Joel ain't there too, down toward the bottom. Tommy glances at it before climbing carefully into the cotton. Handshakes are exchanged.]
Thanks, Doc. C'mon, Trouble.[Tommy pulls the tarp back for Eddie to pass through ahead of him.
Outside even the mist has moved on and while one couldn't call it a beautiful - too many clouds still to catch stars - it's not bad. The rain's pushed the humidity on through, leaving something like a warm, clean night behind. In his pocket, Tommy's phone buzzes. JOEL: Nobody committed murder, not yet anyway. I'm sat at the hotel bar for now. Back later. He tucks it away.] Suppose this is where... well. You should probably get some sleep.
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