[He'd managed to resist the urge thus far. Day one, he might've hummed along or something, but he never outright sang. He was too damn cool for that shit. He was there to listen to music- and attempt to perform himself. Only instead of singing, he was dropping the beats with some magical DJ equipment. It's going great! The only problem is the more he makes those sick beats, the more he thinks they need words.
And suddenly, without even thinking about it, he's moving to pick up the microphone and belting out-]
CAN'T READ MY, CAN'T READ MY, NO YOU CAN'T READ MY POKER FACE!
no subject
And suddenly, without even thinking about it, he's moving to pick up the microphone and belting out-]
CAN'T READ MY, CAN'T READ MY, NO YOU CAN'T READ MY POKER FACE!