Pearl watched Swift laugh and jest with the others, his outfit, or rather hers, the talk of the party. Pearl hoped to one day make one for him, she was itching to get her hands on his stash of sequins and feathers.
But she could not claim to have a helping hand in this one and so after snorting a introductory line of rarely found, and thus highly coveted, white power dust she grabbed her guitar and told herself that she would contribute musically to the party. However when she had gotten to the shin dig she saw that Black Cat, the raven haired rogue that he was, had gotten there first and was already strumming expertly on the fine strings of his masculine guitar. Pearl stood back for a while and watched as the muscles in his arms moved underneath the dark fabrics of his clothing, the way his hand cradled the neck of the instrument and the other strummed the strings gently, lovingly, knowingly. She could see the euphoria in his eyes and knew that any Tawa worth his salt would be inebriated in any manner they could but she also wondered if he too was lifted emotionally by the music he could play. She certainly could be. There wasn't a whole lot of Pearl left, at least not that was present, but when she played she felt normal again, like her old self, or at least the self that had existed just after she'd left the trailer park and just before she'd been signed by corporate wraiths.
She felt her guitar whine behind her and she patted the head of it as if to soothe her cries. "Okay," she hummed stepping toward the stage and stopping just short of Cat, "Need another?" she asked her eyes boring into his, focusing on the orbs beneath his thick dark brows rather than the lips that had been singing.