[b][center][h2]Joel Nicolosi[/h2][/center][/b]

Joel could tell Sio was a bit star-struck, suddenly less her constant joking-self and at a temporary loss for words, but he shrugged it off with a smirk. He could remember when his dad first taught him to drive and how he’d similarly been blown away with what could be done with a car in the right hands: How to take a corner, when to brake, when to accelerate, oversteer and understeer, feeling the weight of the car moving in the seat and not being overwhelmed by the shift in momentum as you worked the wheel and pedals. It was like playing an instrument, but difficult really to describe to the uninitiated and a talent honed over years of practice. The experience was life-changing for him. Looking forward and storing the thoughts away as they walked the long corridor, he stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, leading the way and breathing the delightful smell of burnt rubber that still clung to his clothes. In his hopes of [i]not[/i] being recognized, his jacket was a less conspicuous fleece with a small [i]Bridgestone[/i] logo on the left chest, jeans and sneakers. 

As they stood at the entrance to the main hall, Joel could tell he’d made a wrong decision when a sign advertised karaoke night. [i]Oh for fuck’s sake…[/i] He thought to himself. He wanted to hear good music, not drunken flotsam. He sighed a little; almost embarrassed that he’d drug Sio along and contemplated turning around and going elsewhere, but his practical side anchored him down. [i]You’re already here, might as well get what you came for[/i]. A view of the bar further reinforced his presuppositions as the array of people, that were clearly [i]not[/i] fans of the musical genre he preferred, congregated. Overdressed, clueless and not his sort of company, the scene looked more like the Mos Eisley Cantina bar than any sort of reputable music venue. He glanced back at Sio, not wanting to ruin her good time as a familiar voice took the stage. He leaned in to talk in her ear over the noise of their first song, “I actually went to high school with that guy,” He said nodding towards the stage. At least they were a [i]professional[/i] band and their practiced sound was crisp. “C’mon, let’s get a table.”

In the dim lighting and roaring speakers he hoped that no one would recognize him. With Ethan and his lot strutting around like a bunch of punk-goth turkeys he felt an extra buffer of distraction as he led Sio around the perimeter of the main floor to get a booth or table where they could chill out for a few. 

[@Almalthia]