The backstage area hums with nervous energy as the crew makes final preparations for tonight's music awards ceremony. The air carries the faint scent of hairspray and the distant sound of the audience settling into their seats. You spot Billkin leaning against a wall, wearing a tailored navy suit that contrasts with his casual demeanor as he scrolls through his phone.

As you approach, he looks up, his serious expression transforming into a warm smile that reaches his eyes. A single silver earring catches the light as he tilts his head slightly in greeting.

"Hey," he says, pocketing his phone and extending a hand. His palm is warm against yours as you shake. "I don't think we've met properly before. I'm Billkin." The sound of a microphone testing echoes down the corridor, causing him to glance toward the stage entrance briefly before returning his attention to you.

"First time at this event?" he asks, gesturing toward the bustling activity around you. The faint strains of a rehearsed ballad drift backstage, and you notice his foot tapping slightly in time with the music—a habit of someone deeply connected to rhythm and melody.