Three albums, three eras, hundreds of songs, millions of fans - Ryan was in sort of an insane place these days. He'd started off slow, a high school band with a shitty name that made about ten different evolutions before he settled on one that was only vaguely cringey over time. Okay- that might be too generous, but. He wasn't going to change something with as huge a brand as it had now. His first album was received with mixed critical reviews, baroque and edgy and sort of poppy when it came down to it, commercially successfuly because that was the air of the time, and as timeless as it was it probably wouldn't sell now if not for the nostalgia of the scene age. The second was Beatles-esque and gentle, although when he was stoned as hell and writing it with Spencer, Jon, and Brent, they definitely thought the album was hardcore and screeching. Listening back, far from it. It was reminiscent of flowers, of fields, of meadows, delicate and nothing like the roughness he thought he'd created. The third was close but not quite; it was beachy and indie-rock, a classic that would stand the test of time in the same way that the second album would but the first definitely wouldn't. So Ryan was sort of an expert by now.

And all of his solo works were just as well-received. Between the hiatus of the second and third albums he'd focused on it more, and officially only released solo work after the third (much to the distaste of his fans, but hey, they weren't the ones holding his contract). That stuff was even more mixed-genre than his official band's albums. He produced dreampop, he made classic rock, sometimes he delved into something beyond soft and delicate, almost the kind of music you'd fall asleep to. Generally, he was reaching so many different audiences that it was hard to know who he had initially started making music for, but in reality it was all for himself. He needed an outlet, and Ryan wasn't shy or reserved anymore but he just wasn't much of a talker, so music became that. When people started listening to excerpts online and his fucking [i]idol[/i] even liked the clips he put out, he figured it was time to make that outlet public, to at least be a part of something bigger while doing what he loved.

So that was the success story. He still didn't really believe it. Ryan saw his name on Forbes lists and saw not-outdated articles on Google and was in autocomplete suggestions when you typed out 'Ryan' and still couldn't believe it. People approached him on the street, waited over five hours outside of venues to be first in line for his shows, then had the patience to wait until he could come outside post-show just for the chance to meet him or get an autograph. He had an entire staff dedicated to keeping him safe from bad publicity or invasive paparazzi or rabid fans, paid people to sort out all of his obligations and complete tasks that he couldn't at such a level of fame and to maintain his house when he left for months on end, and all of it was so out of his realm of reality that he wasn't sure he was even in it half the time. After this lifestyle had dominated half of his time on earth you'd think he was used to it, but he was far from it; he still spent days staring in the mirror trying to see what everyone else saw. It was all... so bizarre, and he would never calibrate.

But sometimes he had to escape it. He didn't need a 'disguise' or anything ridiculous like that if he was in the right place. Places like Los Angeles, New York, everyone was so focused on themselves, or if they were paid to focus on famous people they were busy hunting down other celebrities doing different things from him, that they didn't really bother with him. He could go out in all his glory and would maybe get a second glance every couple hundred feet, get the occasional fan too enveloped with his work to pass up the opportunity to say something, and that was okay. It was almost normal- as normal as normal got for Ryan. So whenever he came to L.A. he went to the most generic neighborhoods ever, found the most generic bars and clubs and restaurants, and those were the ways he got out of the house safely without an agent behind him. 

Usually he didn't interact; not for his own safety but just because he was sort of aloof by nature. He was beyond social anxiety now, even being vaguely nervous around someone was unheard of at this point. That's what his teenage years and a couple years following were for - now he'd interacted with so many people that he didn't feel the edge anymore, only ever had a physical reaction when he was crowded or overstimulated. But face to face, he'd gotten over it all. In this case, though, in the midst of a half-empty downtown Los Angeles bar, catching a glimpse of someone on one of the barstools looking bored as all hell with what appeared to be a classic whiskey, he was sort of inspired to strike up conversation. Yeah, yeah, he was human, he'd tried to hit on people before, it only went down well half of the time - and half of [i]that[/i] time it was only well-received because they knew who he was. But it hadn't been part of his plans tonight, he was just floored by this guy's... general air, how flawless he was. 

Ryan spent a few minutes lingering around the bar, directly avoiding looking over lest he look too obviously creepy, but sort of trying to figure out how best to do this. Send over a drink? He had [i]whiskey[/i], a sipping whiskey that would be really weird to have two of. And he probably wouldn't even be... actually, this was downtown L.A., there was a good 99% chance he was at least somewhat gay. And he was too pretty not to be. Fuck it. Ryan waited until he was low on his drink before coming over, leaning against the bar rather than sitting in case he was turned away. Propped up by his elbow, the wood digging into his waist, Ryan put on a winning smile, the kind reserved for red carpet shoots. He was just glad he was actually dressed for the occasion this time - a leather jacket typical of him and slim-fitting jeans, rather than the lazy getup he'd pick on slow nights. [b]"Hey, there, can I buy you a drink? I'm Ryan."[/b] His easy countenance helped the line come out all too smoothly, complete confidence and composure. He tipped his head to the side, trying to cue a name in return.