[center][img] https://i.imgur.com/QgkuGJ9.png[/img [/img]
[sub]Seriously wtf is this guy doing[/sub][/center]

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Tonight was a night for a party, but not for Nate.  Nate had run for the hills. He had found himself a nice, cosy bench, surrounded by some soothingly aromatic flora, that overlooked the fire-lit beach beautifully. Indeed, it was quite a sight. Perhaps it would be even better if that [i]blasting[/I] VIP tent wasn’t covering half of his view.  Who had a [i]freaking[/i] VIP tent on a party that was just about 99% inhabited by their own invited friends? Apparently Rachel [i]flipping[/i] Ashford was too amazing to be among her own people. 

Pre-ten-tious.

Did that surprise anyone, though? Did it? Alas, not all was lost! Indeed, there were enough ways to make your own fun on a beautiful island like this. Contrary to popular belief, you didn’t have to kiss Rachel [i]flaming[/i](ha!) Ashford’s undoubtedly pretty ass to have fun here. Nate was never without his own means of enjoyment, and only half of them involved work!  Huh, maybe his secretary was right. Good ol’ Patty had been telling him for the last two years to go to therapy. And that was before that… accident… at Indie’s 19th birthday party. 

But how did Nate make his own fun, you might ask. Well, the answer was quite simple. Nate always had a plan B. And tonight that plan involved a high spot and his trusty violin. Add a bit of imagination and… voila. Now he was the conclusive emperor of the Julio-Claudian dynasty. Well, the tale that Nero fiddled while Rome burned in the great fires were a total myth, but that didn’t make it any less fun to act out.  His imagination did not project a view of the island burning, of course. Not even Nate was that far gone. He wished the people down there a jolly good time with their [i]blazing[/i](ha ha!) party.

Nate was just going to fiddle… well… playing a violin wasn’t really the same as fiddling but it came close enough. He enjoyed playing the instrument (definitely more than he would attending that party), and he didn’t want to get sloppy.  Somehow he always played at his best when his imagination was running wild. And right now his mind was playing Beethoven’s ninth sonata as the decadent Nero from the great palace’s balcony. 

Would Rachel let him build a statue of himself on the beach if he asked nicely? Probably not.  

He wondered if - [i]fuming[/i] hell, that was so out of tune they probably heard him at the party, teaches him for wondering – if Theo and Indie were having fun down there. They probably were. They were in the zone here. Maybe he’d just shadow one of them tomorrow.  Maybe, just maybe, he’d find out what enthused them so about Rachel [i]fracking[/i] Ashford.  Probably not, but they couldn’t fault Nate for not trying!

God, somebody end his loneliness right here. He would kill for a small audience. Was he the only one who wasn’t drawn like a moth to the flame? Could nobody appreciate the peacefulness of a beautiful view over the hubbub of the noise down below? Nay, for now his music was simply gone with the wind.
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