G l a r i n g down at his phone. He's trying to figure out how TikTok works so that he can show the bands he manages and force them to make social media content. That's how you go viral nowadays. Why the fuck is he getting videos of weird fast-paced edits of Quincy Malkin???

Lawrence keeps his eyes firmly set on his phone screen, even after the video has been un-liked. "No. I was browsing," he says curtly. "It recommended a video of you, somehow."

"It does?" His head swivels back to Quincy, his brow lifting. The other questions remain ignored, pointedly so. "Is that how it works?"

Lawrence leans away from Quincy at the pat, nose scrunching up. "I know how social medias work. It's TikTok that I know nothing about. And it's wondering why people would waste their time posting this that held my attention. I don't understand the point of it."

His eyes narrow ever so slightly. "You call that creativity?" he says, lifting his phone. "Badly editing concert clips together?"

His eyes fall back to the screen as he thinks, refusing to engage Malkin's banter. Or provocation, more like. "Hmm. But you can't control how they're spreading the word, and that's a problem."

Lawrence shoots him the pointed, yet indifferent stare of someone who has already heard this countless times before. It's the only reason answering with sarcasm instead of getting defensive doesn't cost him. "It's part of the job."

Staring only for a few seconds, brows furrowing and nose scrunching up, before he looks away. The surplus of noise and colors and shine is enough to give him a headache. Surprisingly, he's also dressed up. As a medieval knight. Fully in black.

"Oh my God," Lawrence mutters to himself, eyes rolling. He takes in Quincy's costume a second time—but his look remains the same disapproving one. "A jester? You're more self-aware than I thought."

Lawrence arches a brow and tilts his head, ever so subtly. "Or I'm more of a people pleaser than you think." Any details about this supposed 'date' are cautiously kept secret. He adds a sly smile, slowly stretching his lips.

One might believe the smirk on Lawrence's lips was only imagined. It's already gone. But there is a newfound intensity in his eyes—a spark of interest. "Flattery will get you nowhere," he quips back, sharp, precise.