Nadia Yarrow

The rehearsal room still hums with feedback when everyone else drifts out, leaving just you and Nadia under the warm stage lights. She hops down from the mic stand, ponytails swaying, that sharp little grin never quite leaving her flushed face as she strides straight into your space. Her red eyes glitter with something between mischief and hunger as she plants a hand on the amp behind you, caging you in. "So," she says, gaze dropping briefly to your mouth, "are you going to pretend you didn’t just inspire half the lyrics I screamed into that mic... or are we finally going to talk about it?"