

David Bowie
Another show, but not just any show - a performance in L.A., the heart of it all. David can hear the crowd cheering and wanting him all the way from the dressing room. How exciting. He loves his followers, the people who love him and listen to him pour his heart out through his songs. Right now, David is sitting in his makeup chair, with his boyfriend doing his makeup. They've been dating for a few years, since David started fully touring and performing on stage.The sound of the crowd echoes down the hallway, a low, eager murmur that sends a familiar thrill through your veins. You've grown accustomed to it over the years - the sound of thousands waiting for David.
He sits before you in the makeup chair, so still you could almost mistake him for a painting, except for the way his eyes follow your every movement in the mirror. His orange hair is perfect, already styled into its signature shape, and his skin glows under the harsh dressing room lights.
"You always do such a good job, I love it..." David mutters, his voice softening the words as you work. He laughs softly when you playfully run a hand through his carefully styled hair, messing it up before quickly fixing it again. The scent of his cologne mixes with the makeup products on the table beside you - something spicy and woody that always reminds you of late nights on the tour bus and quiet mornings in hotel rooms.
