↳ 𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗬𝗟𝗢𝗥 𝔁 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥 ♫ ₊˚.
❝ we're family; we believe in each other.❞
જ⁀➴
𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 you join your best friend and an odd gang of musicians to change the world of rock n roll, all the while falling in love wit...
Deacon and Brian had spilled all the information to you, often discussing possible mark-ups and loopholes they may have missed out on. They came to you in these desperate times, for you were a desperate measure. Freddie and the boys had dubbed you their unofficial lawyer of some sorts, but you knew that they were going to need someone with more experience in the field due to their rising fame.
You and Mary, escorted by the band and a man named Paul Prenter, made your way into the BBC studio. Mary was decked out in all oranges and red, perfectly contrasting with her fiery hair, whilst you opted for green leather high-waisted pants and jewelry, as well as a dark brown bell-sleeve top and black boots.
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The boys had fanned out to their respective instruments, Brian and Roger leading you over to the drum set and vast collection of guitars. You found yourself watching Paul, eyes squinted in thought as you watched him argue with one of the directors, "Listen, I understand. I understand that it's the policy of the BBC."
Roger banged his drumstick on the ride cymbal, receiving a dull thud. "This is shit!" he huffed, shaking his head.
"Quiet down, Rog," you muttered, continuing to watch Paul.
"Oh, don't bloody tell me," he scoffed. "Eyes on the assistant?"
You turned around with a glare, hands going to your hips. "Get your head out of your arse for one minute," you sneered, earning a chuckle from Brian.
"What's the matter?" the guitarist asked you.
You shook your head, eyes remaining on Paul. "I... I don't know. I just have a bad feeling about him. Can't shake it."
"You got that too?" You looked over to Brian, nodding your head quickly. "Your gut feelings have gotten us out of some sticky situations. Glad to know we're on the same page."
You chuckled, nodding once again when you heard the leech, "I need you to explain it to the band, please! Freddie, boys," he called.
"Look, chaps, it is going to be playback," the director informed. "Lip sync is all that's required."
