#vldjuno 001

KMG had made sure to let him know that all bets were off when it came to further stalling his next comeback. With it being over a year and a half since releasing any new music, the company increased their pressure on the topic, and he could only image when they’d have him return to the industry in a fashion FANgs expected.

But until then he sat quietly, watching idly by as his hoobaes clawed their ways to the top of charts he had once sat rather pretty on. A few of his songs circulated back through every time and again, but for the most part it had been a number of months since he’d rocketed back to even the top five. Now, that wasn’t to say he’d been by any means forgotten: how could they forget him? With the BLCKSPDR scandals like a decaying albatross around his neck, people could smell the bad blood whenever he entered a room, it seemed.

Yet since those days — the ones he dared call full of glory — had been laid to rest nearly seven year ago, but the public seemed to posses the memory of an elephant. They didn’t care if he’d changed for the better, and in truth he couldn't blame them: it wasn’t like he cared all too much for them these days either.

Legs crossed at the ankles, the soloist leaned against the back of the café chair. Bare palms hugged a warm coffee mug as it hovered just inches above his chest, dark eyes observing the young man across from him. They’d interacted a number of times over the years, but Juno had rarely been able to get much out of him. It wasn’t anything personal.

“So,” the jeweler’s son began, thumbing the side of his nose before returning to grip the cup, “How’s your month looking? They have you running around?"