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ETTA ♛
Etta's paranoia didn't leave her. Not for an entire week. Her sleep was the most restless it had been since starting tour; filled with her conjuring of scenarios based on everything that had happened since she'd first stepped on the bus, and everything else that she feared would come to life. All the doubts and insecurities, the suspicions and wariness that threw shadows over the deepest depths of her mind, they all came to surface whenever her eyes closed, and they drowned her in the darkness.
She was tired. People could tell. And irritated, and nervous and wary of every single time she caught a certain brunette slipping out of a room when she thought nobody was looking, every time she caught her following Luke like she was an apex predator and he was simply in the wrong place, at the wrong time.
There were no opportunities to get Luke alone, just to see him, to speak to him for a minute or two, for a mere ounce of the reassurance he was capable of giving her. Etta couldn't turn to anyone else, didn't want to, only him. But he was always unavailable to her, what with that serpent of a woman following so closely behind him that she was surprised the heels of Luke's shoes hadn't worn away from all the times she had clipped them.
He was annoyed, too. More than that, Etta could see the silent rage brewing beneath the surface of his skin, with every single twitch of his jaw whenever Melissa did literally anything. She breathed, and Luke looked like he could punch a hole the size of California in the closest wall.
