Re: The Disaffected/The Entertainer
Miles didn't cling to youth, but he didn't embrace responsibility either. He had a good enough reason to give the world for why he was devil may care every moment of the day, and that was the music. Musicians were forgiven a lot when it came to being responsible adults. Entertain people and they'll forgive you anything. Become big enough that you're some false god on a blinding stage and they'll give you their own damn soul for a lock of your hair. It was some crazy shit, but it meant Miles had little he needed to do in the world. He had agents and representatives to clean up all his shit. That was the good part of the gig.
He'd skipped his ABCs and gone straight to one nighters in bars with wood paneling, but that was alright too. Nicky wasn't a man prone to crying in his Cheerios. "Don't all people feel different?" he asked. "I'm no expert, but I think relationships always come with fitting in jigsaw pieces that don't quite go right." He tapped the bar again. He wasn't slurring or acting intoxicated. Drinking was something else you learned to do as a musician. "It could get tiring to feed someone affirmations all day for years," he acknowledged. "Why didn't you get some therapy, try to save it by tending to yourself?" He could write all the love songs the world wanted, but Miles saw things in plain shades.
His drink came and he sipped. "You're not an adult yet eh? Plenty of time to get your head sorted. Bad childhood?" he asked casually, like he didn't give a shit about the answer.