Int. Andres Torres - Blog Posts

"Alright, well, shut up, dude. This isn't fun if you take it this well." Briggs admitted, clearly weirded out, but a small smirk still on his face. Truthfully, it unnerved him that very few things got to AP, but it kind of made it better. He could be a bit more brutal than he was to other people whenever the other man was around. "I always get free drinks, happens when you're in a band." Briggs chuckled, shaking his head. "We have originals, but for this type of event we do a lot of covers. Romantic movie classics, you know, like I Want You to Want Me and shit, very fun but silly stuff."

Wouldn’t a comment like that make a man cringe? Normally, usually, most times–absolutely. But for a man like Andres who couldn’t stand the sight of his father—anyone else would be better suited for his mother’s bedroom. “Yeah? Well, congratulations. I had no idea you made it to mama Torres’ tax bracket.” Finishing off his drink in one rapid gulp, Andres let a hint of a smile crack onto his lips as he canted his head to finally meet Briggs’ eye. “No need to appease me, I simply thought you were here for the free drinks. Glad to know you’ve got more standards than such. Now, you gotta answer this, all your songs are originals?”

Briggs downed two shots of vodka, one after another effortlessly and then gestured the bartender over to ask him to take several of those to the band wherever they were sitting. A small smirk played on his lips at AP's words and he turned his head to look back at him. "It's reserved for dive bars and your mom's bedroom, actually. I'm pretty exclusive." He retorted, though there was no bite to his words. Really, this was something that he would even tell his friends from the MC anyway. "I'm going up there shortly, hence all the shots and the reason why I have been in this seat, sorry to disappoint and not say I just liked the company. I do agree with the first band being better. Their song choices did that."

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The last band on stage had finished their set, followed by the soft applause from the crowd. However, Andrés had found his hand instinctively reaching for his drink that was slid towards him from the bartender. "I think I liked the first band better," he said casually, leaning a forearm onto the marble counter. Despite his gaze trailing forward on the stage to watch as the artists replaced positions, he was acutely aware of who was standing beside him. "You performing tonight? Or is that talent reserved for dive bars?" The tone of his words seemed warm, but there would be no missing the edge that clipped them at the end.