A/N: Here's yet another filler chapter to show what's going on 'behind the scenes' so to speak, before the craziness readily begins! :) Bear with me people if you're in this for the long haul! Rome wasn't built in a day ya know :)). Chapter 7 could be up as soon as tomorrow depending on how smoothly it goes! Sorry if this chapter kinda sucks...hit a bit of a roadblock, but chapter 7 SHOULD be better. Anywayyy, I want to continue to thank you alll again for continuing to be fantastically WONDERFUL as you've all been! This story would be crap without your positive views, no joke! :))

Neither Paul nor Ringo were aware of how long they'd been at work, but Epstein's sudden appearance at the door of the suite signaled that they'd better get a move on; grab something to eat, shower, whatever it took, and be ready in three hours flat. Leaving the hotel was only part of the ordeal. Following that milestone, they had to reach their destination safely with still enough time to get into their stage clothes, as well as get their hair and makeup done, come to terms with a list of songs for performing, and get on stage and give it their all while millions of fans screamed for them. It was a concept un-foreign to them by this point, but it didn't make things any less nerve-wracking for any of them.

Paul felt especially on edge as he discussed with Eppy just what was expected prior to all the excitement. By the sounds of it, leaving the hotel just to get to the limo was destined to be a trick in and of itself. According to Mal, American fans were like animals and even the press, whom they had a scheduled conference with after the show, proved to be just as rambunctious. Apparently, an incident had happened earlier with John, leading to Mal having to come to his rescue. Paul frowned as Eppy revealed the information, stating something about how Mal had noticed, following the situation, that John seemed a bit ill. "…Is he all right?" Eppy finished presently, stepping past Paul into the suite.

"I think so… though he is a bit below par," Paul responded, his tone portraying slight reluctance as he gazed into Eppy's concerned brown eyes, "'E's settled down fer a kip at the moment. Been dealing with a right fierce pounder of a headache all day that 'e 'asn't been able to shake, which I believe is why 'e's been a bit of a git all day."

"A git would be putting it mildly," Eppy muttered, though not with any real anger. He'd always possessed a bit of a soft spot for John that may or may not border infatuation and momentarily; any anger he might have had towards the musician, was outweighed by concern. "Where are Ringo and George?" he asked rather suddenly as if to force his mind off of John for the time being.

To Eppy's dismay, there was already quite a bit of talk going around in regards to his developing feelings towards John Lennon. John knew it, the band knew it, and none of them had the obligation to deny it, knowing Eppy's obvious sexual preferences. And though the man was arse over elbows for John, he didn't want the others to think for a minute that he didn't care about the rest of them. That wouldn't be further from the truth. Truthfully, he cherished all of them on friendship levels…even John, who only seemed to have an eye for girls. He had no choice but to love John from afar, while brutally and painfully knowing that John could never really love him back.

"George should be catching a bit of a kip, as well," Paul responded with hesitant uncertainty, "and Ringo should be showering if he knows what's good fer 'im."

Eppy frowned, "I've been wondering, as well, about George. How's he been feeling? He seemed a bit knackered to me today…"

"Still getting over his bout with the lurgy," Paul revealed offhandedly, "'He's fine though. Just a bit jetlagged 'e told me."

Eppy nodded, taking in Paul's words with great consideration, "Good. I would hate for him to fall ill again." He grinned finally; impressed with the tight ship that Paul seemed to be running. "Atta boy, Macca!" he exclaimed appreciatively in his usual jovial manner, "Sounds like you've got everything under control as expected." He patted him affectionately on the shoulder, "Tonight, it'll all pay off, you'll see!"

Paul opened his mouth to respond but his stomach beat him to the punch as it chose that very moment to plaintively announce its growing hunger. Grinning sheepishly, he patted his abdomen in a soothing manner and met Eppy's amused gaze with an awkward chuckle. "Mal didn't 'appen to go shopping by any chance did 'e, Eppy?" he asked hopefully.

"He should be along any moment with groceries," Eppy stated, sporting a grin at Paul's expense, "I believe he might 'ave ordered room service for the lot of ye' as well, though what exactly, I'm not sure."

Paul was practically salivating at just the mere mention of food. At this point, he realized he couldn't care less what Mal had chosen to order for them. He'd eat a live rhinoceros if one just so happened to waltz into their suite; he was that hungry. Paul grinned. Perhaps this was what it felt like to be George a full twenty-four hours a day. In the many years that he'd known him, he'd quickly found that the guitarist was always hungry and always searching for grub and any given opportunities to fill his belly. As far as Paul knew, this had always been the case and extended even as far back as to when they had been mere school chums. Over time, it had become quite foreseeable to the Beatles that the day that George didn't persistently seek out edible comfort would be the day he was most likely on his deathbed. They would probably need to check him into the intensive care unit if such a thing were to occur.

"What's got ye' smiling, Paul?" Eppy asked rather suddenly, his confusion-riddled tone drawing the bassist out from his amusing reverie.

Paul's grin continued to widen in spite of Eppy's growing curiosity. "Just thinking, I s'ppose," he responded. He allowed his grin to fade before continuing, "I hope whatever it is that Mal has decided to order is enough for all of us. There's no telling what'll 'appen the minute Harrison's stomach gets involved."

Eppy's resulting laugh filled the room, "I'm right certain Mal has that covered, Paul," he assured him, "We're all vividly aware of George's abundant appetite whether we want to be or not." Grinning widely, he rubbed Paul's arm in a warm and friendly manner before starting for the suite's exit. He paused just outside the doorway and resting a hand on the door handle, turned back to face Paul, a newly concerned look plaguing his features. "When ye' get the chance, Paul, tell John I wish to speak with him in the limo," he insisted seriously.

Paul nodded, knowing exactly what Eppy was getting at. He could only hope John would be feeling better by then. Now that their managers were caught up, if he came off acting remotely like he wasn't right, it wouldn't go unnoticed or unaddressed. Paul sighed heavily, rubbing a bit at his temples. With all that was going on, he was starting to get a bit of a headache himself. Hopefully Lennon hadn't hogged all the aspirin.

A/N: Again, sorry if this sucked guys but thanks for reading! Stay tuned for chapter 7 :))