"Thanks, and no thanks," he says, laughing. "You look nicer not covered in all that fake blood," he says. "Want a drink?" he asks, opening a cooler beside him. "I have absinthe and diet fanta...the fanta's not mine, I swear."

"I think they've got a thing for Faygo. Fanta is untouched by their filth," he says, pulling out two glasses and pouring them both absinthe and fanta - abfantha (ooc: doesn't that just sound dirty?) He takes a sip and grimaces. "Jeezus...the things I do to get drunk," he says.

"Meh," Trent says, taking another sip. "Clowns don't freak me out, but Insane Clown Posse sure does. They have the worst fanbase of any bad ever...except maybe Blood on the Dance Floor."

"They're like a combination of the worst possible things you can imagine. The saddest part is that they've still got fans. Like, what is this, 2008?" Trent asks, his grip on his glass getting tighter as he gets worked up. He takes another sip and calms down. "Ugh...I'm stressed out."

"Thanks," he says, rubbing his temples. "It's just this tour is getting to me. I love being a rock star and traveling the world and all but...I just prefer being home," he says, shrugging. "My band barely talks to me. We used to be friends, now we're just...co-workers," he says, cringing.

"I used to eat with them...I used to hang out with them. I think they might hate me now.." he says, looking down. "Gabe and Derrick and I used to be close. Now Gabe just chases local chicks and Derrick sits in the back of the bus and writes his own music. He hasn't been the same since...since his girlfriend died."

"Er...not really," Trent says. "Derrick's girlfriend was Teresa Campbell. The one who Ada hated."

"Yeah..." Trent says, finishing his glass of fansinthe. "I think it's real bullshit. She fucks up once and everybody hates her because of Ada. God.." he tries to calm himself, putting the glass down. "I just try to keep my cool around Erich. You don't insult a man's wife...but I've been tempted to."

"Yeah.." Trent says, smiling as he thinks of Vara. "That's another thing...I know what people think of Vara. And some of it...some of it's the truth. She can be a bitch. But I need her. I miss her so badly, too. I'm worried that something's going to happen. I mean, I trust her completely, but I heard that Pilgrim guy was hitting on her, and now every night I go to sleep and I think 'what's Vara doing? Is she with anybody?' and then I feel guilty for leaving to go on this tour. Which is bullshit - I mean, the entire principle of me feeling guilty for taking a chance - a completely reasonable chance, might I add - that could result in my music going worldwide is complete - fucking - bullshit!" he yells, slamming his fist down on his thigh. He leans over like he's going to puke, breathing deeply. "Christ, I'm such a fucking mess," he says, pulling a baggie filled with white powder from his jacket pocket. "Want some coke?" he asks, as casually as one would talk about the weather.