[Guy's head is bowed as he takes up the fedora he'd dropped on the table before spotting Julian and he fingers the brim. With melancholy steps, he goes for the door, hoping Julian will follow. A hand runs over his face, like it had that day just outside the flat in London, taking a trail of rain and blood and tears with it. The things a man is made of.]
Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky...
[He walks toward the door of the club, uncaring of the scene he has made.]
[action]
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky...
[He walks toward the door of the club, uncaring of the scene he has made.]