Mao thought getting into a band would be easier than this, he didn't like that queasy tingle that reeked of 'fear of rejection' he was starting to feel. He didn't have many friends, people tended to find his personality a bit too much to take in large batches. Somehow he had forgotten that fact in his excitement over being in a band, but now it came back to him and he realized that being good at the drums wouldn't mean shit if they didn't like him. Was Mr. Bowtie trying not to laugh because he thought he was an idiot and that he knew there was no way him and his buddies would let him be part of the group? Eden certainly didn't seem all that impressed.
"Commando, huh? That's good to know. Future reference and all." He tried to grin, but it fell flat. The Asian boy sat with his mouth pulled into a crooked line, lips thinned as he watched the others discuss amongst themselves what his second test would be. He was trying for a neutral expression, but his new discomfort wasn't so easily hidden.
Mao was so distracted by thinking how stupid he was going to feel when they told him to go home that he was startled to realize that they were going to play a song right now. Mr. Bowtie started singing, and guitars soon followed, but no drums. Mao blinked, wide eyed, then began to fumble in his jacket for his phone. "Uh, wait-- Hold on..! H-hold on a sec...!" He looked endearingly sheepish as he huddled over his phone, looking up a video of Uptown Girl being played on the drums, he might have even gone faintly pink.
Soon there came the tinny sound of music coming from the phone, Mao's eyes were glued to the screen. Everything else ceased to exist while the video was playing, the boy didn't even blink. And when it was over he sat up, that cheshire grin back on his face as he picked up the drum sticks again. "Now I'm ready. Start over!"