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"What in..." Joe Elliott's sea-green eyes widened in shock. "How did you get back here?"

The girl said nothing.

"Secu-" Joe started to yell.

"Shut your big mouth for once." Rick Savage, better known as Sav, pushed his best friend of forty-three years down onto the sofa. "No one call security yet." Sav was interested--no, intrigued, to know more about this girl. How did she get back here? They'd had groupies sneak backstage before, but Sav was pretty sure she wasn't a groupie. Too much clothes for that.

"Mind explaining yourself, before I call security?" Joe demanded. "You have"--he grabbed Sav's arm and glanced at his watch--"two minutes and seventeen seconds."

"Joe, shut up!" Sav groaned. "Sorry." He said, addressing the girl. "He didn't mean it."

"Did so!" Joe protested, before Sav clamped a hand over his mouth. Joe licked it, causing Sav to roll his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"That doesn't concern you." She said, glancing around the room.

American, and southern at that, Sav decided. It made sense. They were in South Carolina, after all.

"Joe, don't get on that plane."

"What in..." Joe trailed off. "How do you know..."

"Don't get on that plane." She repeated, glancing around the room. "The one to Dublin, Joe. The eleven o'clock flight tonight."

"And why shouldn't I?"

"Something terrible is going to happen." With that, she turned and made to leave, but Sav stopped her.

"Wait. I...would you like to come back to the hotel?"

"Sav, you can't lay her. She's what, sixteen? And you're married." Phil Collen said, a knowing look crossing his face.

"Close." She smirked. "Fifteen." Sav swore he saw her eyes flash a strange golden color as she looked from Phil to him, but it couldn't have been. Must've been the lighting, or that tequila shot I just had.

"I wasn't trying to lay her, Phil, get your mind out of the gutter! And we're getting a divorce, the papers are already signed and sent."

"How the fuck did you get back here, and where are your parents? And what the fuck is going on here? What has my flight got to do with you, anyways?" Joe crossed his arms.

"Yeah, what is going on?" Rick Allen, Def Leppard's one-armed drummer, chimed in. Vivian Campbell nodded, agreeing with Rick.

The girl stared at Joe, and Sav took that opportunity to look her over. She wasn't terribly tall or terribly short, nor was she overly skinny. But she also wasn't...what is it kids call it these days? Thick. Wait, no, two c's. Thicc. She had dark brown hair, and it was just slightly curly. One thing that stood out to Sav was her Queen shirt, but it was her eyes that really got him, blueish green, with flecks of brown. Never in my life have I seen eyes like that.

Sav shook his head. She's fifteen, for fuck's sake. Get it together.

"What's your name, kid?" Vivian asked.

"Like I said before, that doesn't concern you. Now, to answer Joe's questions, I have my ways of getting places. As for my parents, I don't have any. I can't say anything more about what may or may not happen on your flight, Joe, but I strongly recommend that you reconsider getting on that plane. Oh, and by the way, great show! Have a good night, and think about it, Joe."

And she was gone, leaving the five men to stare at the place she'd been standing.

"Where..." Phil trailed off.