(This started out as an impromptu meme, but now is being adapted for RP)

Curt Wild was a legend. As a musician, a singer, a bard, I used to fantasize about the mere possibility of actually working with him on any sort of project.I had listened to his records for forever, and now I was getting the chance of a lifetime, my manager had spoken with Curt Wild's management and a tentative project with the two of us was being negotiated.

Now as I made my way backstage through the throngs of people toward the dressing room, I felt the rising tide of nervousness as Iain, my manager, blithered endlessly in with that slow British accent that screamed of his upbringing in Milton Keynes. The only good thing about him being with me is that the sheer rock-manager persona kept at bay those who got too close. There were always the groupies, the backstage letches, and roadies checking out mini skirts, cleavage and the general packaging of all those assembled. There were the rack-jobbers and the bullshitters that were part and parcel of the whole scene. Sex, drugs, rock and roll, and the most ironic part is that of all three activities, I'd only ever really done the rock and roll part. In the background the opening act was just taking stage and the energy backstage shifted into the same sort of excitement you feel when the safety bar lowers across your lap on a roller coaster ride.

In a cordoned off area, Iain led me past the security and bouncers that stood watch. Apparently one noticed me on sight and flashed me a smile. They were waiting, we were told, It would be at least forty five minutes of time that we would have before Curt and his band took the stage. I don't know what it was. But across the room was one of the most fragile yet magical human beings that I had ever seen. He had that aura around him, as if he knew who he was. Where I come from it's a sort of Faery glamour. I sort of laughed inwardly at the analogy, a real life Faery Princess meets a Fairy Prince of rock and roll. Of course, the only happy ever afters either of us could hope for would be calculted by the A&R and distribution big shots in the end. I was about to turn to Iain when Curt's and my eyes met. It was a look of recognition on both our parts, I think. He excused himself from the two people he was talking to and made his way to where Iain and I were chatting with Curt's manager. Everyone else but we two seemed to disappear.

"You must be Caroline." he said, extending a hand, "thanks for coming."

I took his hand and flashed him a smile, "Hi, Curt," I said, hoping to hell that my voice didn't crack. That would be a hell of a thing to have happen with someone you wanted to do a duet with. Still, the insecurities were held at bay just by the sheer ease between us.

"You know, I listened to that demo of that Kate Bush cover, "Pull Out the Pin"you did on your last album," he pulled me away from the others, we seemed to disappear in our own world, I bet we could do a wicked awesome one if we dirtied it up a bit."

"Ya think?"

"Yeah, " he nodded, "I do."