Walking around on a moving bus was going to take some getting used to. Although it was a quick drive to the venue, something about the ground moving from beneath you was starting to make Rob queasy. Anything longer for a half hour, and he would probably need to close his eyes. Good thing he was spending the rest of the month and more in the wretched little thing. Large enough for the four of them, plus three extra was one thing. But given enough time, any place is too small for someone. Rob spent some of that travel time in his bottom bunk. Aside from having to stoop down to nearly the floor to climb in, it seemed roomy enough for him. A lamp could bring down enough light for reading, and the curtain which he could open and closed was definitely thick enough to bring him near-total darkness. After weeks of this he assumed this was going to be the best feature. He closed the curtain and felt around the bed, especially the ceiling and how much room it would give him. Or rather, as he was currently accessing…[i]them.[/i] “Yeah…” Rob muttered to himself, imagining positions in his head. “…Maybe it could work.” The bus came to a stop soon enough, and the doors were opened. They were parked presently in a fenced-off dirt lot, which lined up against the back of the venue. The venue itself was a small black building, and from what Rob read from documents Harold sent occasionally, the audience pit was little more than the space between the bar and the stage. [i]Somewhere between 200 and 300 people this night…[/i] Rob remembered from a conversation he had with Harold back in Atlanta. Or was it St. Louis? He was too tired to recall. Either way, In Bloom had never really played a venue quite like this. Not headlining. Or…rather, half-headlining. One of the deals Harold struck with Vicarious’ tour manager was that the two bands would alter who went first on a night-by-night basis. The difference in their popularity overseas was razor-thin (although Harold hinted that the edge went to In Bloom), so it seemed to be the best was of settling the matter. The venue itself was open and accepting of the two bands, or so Rob had been told. One of the nice perks of this particular venue (and hopefully some others) was that they’d be able to look and feel all around the stage and location hours before a single patron entered the doors. The element of surprise was just a bit higher this time around, rather than setting up as the audience watched. It all felt a good bit more traditional than the festival circuit, which was a welcome change to Rob. But he wasn’t ready to check out the inside just yet… As everyone exited the bus, Rob slipped a hand around Jane’s arm, holding her back. With the other, he pressed a button, closing the bus door. “You know,” he said, “this might be our only chance today.” He stood behind her, and slipped his head around her’s, kissing the side of her neck. “Let’s see how these bunks work out.” As the two made their way to the back (where no windows lie, thankfully), Rob caught a glance from Austin, who seemed to be heading back to the bus. He stopped in his tracks, and furled a brow. Rob simply gave him the finger, and both he and Jane slipped to the back of the bus, and closed the curtain. — Afterwards, Rob found himself in the venue’s bathroom. Space had been tight in the bus, and Rob needed a more open place to wash his face off and make sure he gave off no obvious signs of what had happened. Not that it really mattered. Not to anyone in the band. Grant would probably be nonplussed, Aaron supported, and Lyla…Rob didn’t even know. The two had barely exchanged words, but he was sure he’d get to know her at some point. Somewhere in the back of his head, he found himself more worried about Zoe than anything else when it came to showing marks. Which worried him. Why did he care so much about that? Trying not to think too much on it, Rob slipped a thin hoodie over his body, wearing the sleeves down, instead of his usual pushed-up style. He found it uncomfortable, but both of his forearms contained scratches that still shined a bright red. Splashing water on his face, Rob finished up and slipped out into the venue. It was a clean enough place. The walls were styled in an older, almost victorian fashion. The bar was open already for the band, and Austin, Rob, and Aaron talked here. The old wooden floors led Rob to the stage, raised just three feet above the ground. Tonight, Vicarious would open, so Trent was already hard at work setting up his kit. Once Vicarious finished tonight, he would help Rob set up his kit in order to minimize time between sets. “What’s up, man,” Rob offered, sitting at the edge of the stage. “[i]Wie gehts?[/i]” “Dude, I don’t know shit about german,” Trent countered, but looked up, wiping his brow and smiling. “But I’m good.” Rob stood to his feet and helped Trent set the rest of the kit up. “Manage to sneak your stash across the pond?” He asked. Trent shook his head. “I’m just as desperate as you,” he said, “but I’ll let ya know when I find someone.” “I hate to ask, but—“ Rob started. Trent quickly cut him off: “Zoe?” “Yeah.” “Still on the bus, I think,” Trent said softly. “probably arguing with Andy again.” “Why is that?” “I don’t know man,” Trent sighed. “Shit’s been stressful lately. It isn’t like this normally. Or ever. We’re not dramatic people.” “Sorry,” Rob started. “I don’t know how much of that is me or any other In Bloom person, but—“ “Don’t be,” Trent said. “We’re got our shit to deal with, same as you. Hopefully no one kills anyone this tour. But don’t count on it.” Rob laughed. “Fuckin’ weird, isn’t it? Being here?” “Yeah,” Trent responded. “Fuckin’ weird indeed.” Rob slipped away shortly afterward, grabbing a beer from the bar and googling the band—something he picked up doing in the downtime, just to see what was being said. The usual stuff graced his screen. Odd rumors, responses to Jane’s last interview, various talking heads… …and an article concerning Zoe and Jane. It was weird reading about two women he had grown to care for like this: some impersonal article claiming they have some sort of rocky relationship, and how it would ruin the tour. Rob, being the intermediate between the two, couldn’t help but feel just a bit responsible for the article even existing. Even if it had nothing credible in it. “What’s up?” A voice same. Rob’s phone nearly shook out of his hand as he looked up. Lyla, of all people. This was the first time they had directly spoken. “Shit, sorry,” Rob stuttered out. “I got caught up in this article.” “About the band?” She asked. Rob nodded, then: “There’s some crazy stuff out about you guys these days.” 
“Yeah,” Rob agreed. “It’s starting to really get to me.” “If it makes you feel any better,” she started, grabbing a beer from the counter, “a good bit of the people you’ll be playing at tonight hardly know English.” Rob laughed softly, and saw Lyla extend a hand out. He shook it. “Good to meet you,” he said honestly, and she slipped away as soon as she came, without so much as time to get a read on her. Aaron came up like clockwork behind her, having broken away from some conversation with Grant across the venue. He immediately pointed over to where Lyla had gone. “Oh,” he said, nervous, “you met Lyla. How was that?” Rob gave a questioning stare. This was unlike Aaron. “Fine, I guess. Just said hey.” “She didn’t, you know, mention me or anything?” “Oh, Jesus Christ,” Rob through out in an exasperated tone. “Already?” “I’m just curious,” Aaron said. He seemed embarrassed, more than anything. “Enough people are fucking each other on this tour, trust me,” Rob said. He pointed to the few unfamiliar faces from Vicarious’ side. “Go try for one of their roadies or something.” Aaron walked off without another word, leaving Rob to laugh at what had happened. He supposed it wasn’t surprising, given Lyla’s looks. Somebody would be going after that. If not Aaron, than Austin or Sam for sure. Rob got himself up from the bar and walked over to another free person: Andy. Having never had a conversation with the man, he figured it would be now or never. With each step closer, the more he began to want to turn back. Perhaps it was better if this didn’t happen. Perhaps if they didn’t talk— “Hey,” Rob tossed out before he could turn back. He found Andy by a window looking down to the front of the venue. Out here, a crowd of about twenty people stood, waiting. “Already people waiting for us,” Andy said, without looking to Rob. “I wonder who they want to see.” Soon, a fan noticed the two band members, and a few looked up, waving and cheering. “I don’t know,” Rob said honestly. “Hopefully both of us.” It was Andy to leave this time—turning on his heel and sliding over to the others, who were seemingly all getting to know each other. Rob, Jane, Austin, Sam, Grant, Aaron, Lyla. Trent, Andy, Matt, Zoe, David the roadie, and another guy and girl Rob couldn’t recognize. Fourteen of them touring together. This could be a mistake.