Tonight, they're playing in Chicago. Eddie knows he was being a complete asshole during sound check but god, it seems like Vecna has dialed himself up to 11. He's on a rampage tonight in Eddie's mind, leaving little room for Eddie to think at all, let alone be courteous to his band members or the crew. They all go out to get dinner without him as he hides in the green room with his head between his knees and hands covering his ears. It's no use, Vecna will demand to be heard. If Eddie had any peace to process it, he could have noticed that Vecna sounded nervous today. Threatened, maybe. Instead, he's counting down the seconds until the amps and the screams muffle him, at least a little bit.

He likes to pretend his job is the music. Despite the horrors, Eddie still thinks his purpose was always to be on stage. Tell stories. He loves shredding on his guitar and crooning into his microphone. He soaks up the attention, the love, the screams. He even likes the music they're making. It's the music he always wanted to make back in his garage days. Of course, he wishes it were under normal circumstances with his Corroded Coffin boys rather than these random musicians that were plucked from nowhere. But that's on the long list of choices that are no longer his to make. Sue him if he chooses to relish in hearing his lyrics shouted back to him as a blip of light in this miserable existence.

Alex's eyes follow his finger to the bright cluster. "Orion," they both whisper at the same time. "When I was seven, my dad gave me a telescope for my birthday. Orion is the first constellation he showed me how to find. I'm not sure he expected astronaut out of me but he certainly kick-started my head being in the clouds." Alex's eyes go back to the side of Henry's face. Henry's eyes crinkle in a soft, sad smile. Everyone knows the deal with Henry's dad. Beloved movie star dying too young. It's why he's cagey with interviews for this mission. He doesn't want a repeat of all the paparazzi that shoved a camera in the face of a grieving teenager. "Gorgeous, isn't it?" Henry whispers. "Yeah," Alex whispers, not taking his eyes off Henry.

Henry breaks out of his trance to sip his drink down to the ice. The straw makes the childish gurgle noise and they both laugh quietly. "Looks like you need a refill," Alex says after a few moments of silence. Henry looks around and clicks his tongue, "Yeah, where is that pesky waiter?" Alex hums like he's distraught too. "I'm afraid he's off the clock. Looks like you'll have to get it yourself." "That fictional man missed out on a unworldly tip. Could have given him everything I got left." "Maybe the bartender will take your heroic money. Honestly, you could probably leave him the whole card." Henry rolls his eyes and mutters "heroic" under his breath. Alex wants to fight him about it but doesn't want to burst the bubble they have.

Eddie doesn't know if all of that was years or months ago but he's here now, on a North American tour, with his band Kas and the Killjoys. The vampire persona serves him well. Not only does it match the metal aesthetic of his music but it's an easy out for a nocturnal lifestyle. Rock stars don't need to see sunlight. No one has to know that the sun would render him to ash. Rock stars leave their hotel room in the middle of the night to score, obviously. No one has to know this action is finding his next victim to hunt. His non-vampiric bandmates definitely think he's some kind of insufferable method actor. Eddie is happy to keep that illusion alive for as long as possible.

"You're going to bite a fan at the end of every show?" His drummer asked in one of their tour meetings. Hearing that sentence in a stale, corporate boardroom made him want to laugh. "Not actually bite," Eddie lied through his fangs. "But, you know, blood capsules and theatrics. The crowd will love it." The band stared at him unimpressed but after hearing how the crowd roared that first night of tour, they reluctantly came around to it. His bandmates probably assumed he carried his fans offstage to go fuck them in the green room. If only. The rush feels akin to a great orgasm but the mood fades rather fast when the person is limp and lifeless in his arms. He'll finish draining them and Vecna will appear in his human form to take the body away. Back down to Hell, Eddie presumes. He doesn't like to think about it much after it happens.

He was about to make a mad dash to find something, anything with blood, when Vecna appeared before him. He's maybe the last person Eddie should ask for help from but he's not in a state to care. "Need…" Eddie panted. "I need…" A demobat is thrown to him like a bone and Eddie wastes no time sinking his new fangs in it's protruding belly and drinking it dry. It tastes better than he could have imagined. A rush that he could never replicate with the contents of his black lunch box. He drops it unceremoniously when he's done and glances back up to see Vecna looking pleased. "Welcome, Kas," Vecna said in that signature growl of his. "We've got work to do."