He knew that he should have acted more angry when Knubbler played his solo, only to find it mangled and ruined. Toki had certainly expected him to; he'd even offered -
Skwisgaar shook his head to clear his thoughts. Better to just pretend that part had never happened. Toki couldn't have meant it anyway, he was just desperate.
The helicopter's rotors seemed to beat at the same rate as his heart as he stood on the ramp, miles above the ground. He glanced back at Knubbler, fighting to keep an annoyed expression, and then jumped.
There was nothing but the air rushing around him, a simultaneous sense of weightlessness and speed, and the sound of his guitar. It was better than the best performance on stage, better than the greatest sex. It was like riding a dragon into the sun, just him and the music and flight.
Too soon, the parachute opened, and the adrenaline faded. It was still good — he was still flying — but nothing could touch those first few seconds after the jump.
Skwisgaar decided then that maybe his solos would have to be accidentally deleted more often. He could always blame Toki. If the rhythm guitarist tried to protest, he'd just threaten to hold him to his offer.
It would be worth it for another excuse to bask in this perfect, fleeting joy.
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