Adrian's immersing himself with the view before him when he hears the sound of whatever is jamming on someone's earbuds; it is growing louder, much closer to him than he expected. There's a sporty looking kid standing behind him in what might've been awe. He's fixated on Adrian, and it only makes him exceedingly self-conscious, especially when he realizes what they're asking.

His jaw kinda goes slack as he fumbles for the words to respond, proving a bit bewildered by their approach. He wasn't accustomed to this stuff.

Huh, I've never been recognized before...

A look almost like fear glazes over his eyes as he tries to figure out how to cope. Part of him, mostly his stomach, is giddy with butterflies of excitement. I got recognized by someone who actually likes my music. That's... Holy crap. He wanted to capture this moment, if only so that he could rub it in someone's face. Suddenly he was puffing up with a bit of swollen pride. "Yeah."

It'd only taken him a full minute to answer, but he was getting somewhere. "It was my song, I wrote it." It had honestly felt like one of his more... spiteful songs, without a whole lot of creativity. It was more about the expression...

...An expression of embittered disapproval.

He'd almost come to regret writing it by now.

His hand reflexively scratched at the nape of his neck, an anxious smile spreading across his face.

"I'm surprised you recognized me at all," Adrian managed to force out the words.

noah faber

"It all feels stupid when you're..." He was going to say sober, but what kind of message did that send? And Hell, even doped up he was usually extremely self-conscious and judgmental of his work. It's not like every modern artist felt like they were Beethoven or Mozart incarnate. It took a huge rapport from thousands of fans to even begin to make a dent in someone's opinion of themselves, before they stopped being so critical.

Did he even have a hundred fans, let alone thousands? Let alone millions... Adrian didn't see that happening to him, not in a million years.

"...Beginning." Hopefully he overlooked the long pause without question. Adrian himself was beginning to feel a bit cornered by them now as they took a step closer. It's not like he was popular enough to have crazy fanatics hunting him down, right...? His adam's apple undulated with a gulp.

"Well, thanks. I'm glad you appreciate it."

It still felt surreal, but it hadn't gone sour yet, and he was acclimating to it. Part of him thought it was going rather well, and then a lead weight hit his stomach when they asked him a question of their own. Ah, shit. Should he try skirting around it?

It'd been asked of him by a few people, but he tried to keep it... private. For all parties involved. Sucking in a sharp breath, he delved into the nuances of his explanation as best he could without forfeiting any personal information about Monty.

"I thought more of someone than they thought of me," he offered them with a foul taste in his mouth as he managed to utter the words without any malice. It was a very abrupt yet blunt explanation, but it described the situation succinctly. "And the 'other guy' was a dick."

He wouldn't even deign an introduction at the Aurorus Ball, selectively ignoring him.

Cocking his eyebrows with a roll of the eyes, he secretly wished he hadn't outed the cigarette, if only to give him something else to fixate on. To this day he was still bitter about it. Might even take this grudge to the grave as it currently stood.

"You probably could've guessed as much from the lyrics, though. Sorry if you wanted more specifics, but that's confidential," he said teasingly. "Gonna need Level 1 clearance there, bub." He managed a laugh, though he quickly rounded on his fan, a squint to his eyes.

"Do I get to ask any questions? I wanna know who you are, and it seems only fair since you know me," he's got a bit of the 'puppy eyes' going on, although he's also trying to guilt them into it.

It's been awhile since he's done the whole 'mingling' thing, but this feels like it's gone well. It couldn't hurt to test out the waters for awhile.

noah faber

"Noah? Well, nice to meet you, Noah," he dips his head a bit formally, but he's hardly finished with the interrogation. "What kinda work d'ya do? Are you a trainer? You've gotta be..."

Who wasn't a trainer at this point? Adrian's fixation couldn't be impeded for the city waking up around them, the rising ambiance of traffic and the clamor of footsteps as other joggers passed them by.

He's a bit preoccupied with his side of the conversation when a light bulb goes off in his head, although it's equal parts hubris as it is realization. It might've been a bit of a presumption, but...

"Did... did you want an autograph, or...?"

Faintly flushed and speaking with a distinct uncertainty, Adrian makes it sound like an offer, although he just as quickly wishes he hadn't. If only because it's a little embarrassing and uncanny.

noah faber

"If you want..." He's not sure what felt marker will do on a fabric canvas. Probably bleed into it if he holds the tip in one spot for too long, which makes him nervous. Pointlessly ruining his clothes... well, that'd just be a major waste.

Adrian manages to find a marker on his person. It's not the sort of thing just anyone keeps on hand, but he's a lyricist, and sometimes inspiration just hits you. He's tried bringing a pencil before, but the lines fade. And putting a pen in your pocket, well, that's a good way to ruin a pair of pants...

"Not sure how it'll turn out, if I'm honest."

With an uncapped marker in hand and a focused glint in his eyes, matched with his tongue sticking out in typical trope fashion, Adrian prepares to put pen to fabric and give Noah his John Hancock.

"Did you want it on the back? You're gonna have to hold still for me so I don't ruin it."

If it turned out like crap he was definitely going to blame Noah, just because he didn't want to live with the guilt of ruining their jogging outfit.

noah faber

"Next time? You plannin' to make a habit of bumping into me?" He feigned accusation and distrust, but it was a delightful prospect, meeting up with Noah again. They were becoming an addiction of his, being they were so polite and forward, even chivalrous. In short, they were fun.

Holding the marker closer as he hovered, Noah made a last second confession that made him bashful. "Hold you in place...?" Recollections of wrapping an arm around another like an arm bar, restraining others in his embrace...; he's twice as bashful, forced to push those memories away.

"If you say so," he murmurs in compliance.

He's a fan, I can't... look at him like... that.

...

Crap, I am looking at him like that...

His left palm rises to Noah's shoulder, bracing him there while he decides where to pen his signature. The felt tip teeters down to the small of his back before snapping back up to the crevasse of his shoulder blades. Even through the layers of clothing, they are chiseled and lean. His left shoulder is firm beneath his grasp, provoking adulterous temptation. Adrian's only able to imagine how deep his blush is. "Looking good..."

"The signature, I mean," he quickly amends.

A few brief strokes later, after what feels like an era passing him by, Adrian pulls the tip away from Noah's back before capping it. "It's no John Hancock, but I think it looks nice. Do you?"

Taking a step back, he awaits their verdict.

Please like it, please like it... It's not that he doesn't want an excuse to have to meet up with Noah again, but he's hoping to see their eyes light up with the small gesture he's given them.

noah faber

Adrian's fulfilled by their jovial display, getting a dose of that warm, fuzzy feeling they talk about in kid's shows. "Glad you like it." He'd pull out his phone to check the time, and boy, did it fly.

His happiness deflated like a balloon past its prime when they mentioned needing to wash it. "Oh..." Why hadn't either of them realized sooner? Perhaps Adrian though they would just preserve it as it was, like some valuable memorabilia...

But it's not like his signature was worth anything yet, and he was still an upstart, so he scolded himself internally before relenting. The phone he'd checked for the time was now in his hand, deft digits bringing up a camera app. "Yeah, 'course!"

It'd be something he could commemorate this by too, which made it all the more tempting an offer.

Releasing his Vileplume, he set the phone in its hands. "Rover'll take the picture, so get over here," he said impatiently with a bit of giddy bleeding through his tone. Adrian puffed up his chest, straightening out his posture, trying to embody the rocker idol he styled himself as.

noah faber