Syte Scraps (Unfinished WIPs)

The meager staff behind the infamous Keaton's Corner had been worked up in a frenzy by the night's events- and Keaton didn't know why. He was late to join them, placating irritated fans in the audience with honey-sweet platitudes and faux sympathy. The moment he ducked backstage, his charming grin vanished, replaced with a bitter scowl.

“What the hell happened out there?” Keaton hissed. It was rare for Keaton to get angry- but he never liked his show going sour, and not knowing what was going on was infuriating. With the cameras off of him, he was free to make himself more comfortable in his apparel; he tugged the straps of his suspenders off of his shoulders and undid his bowtie with practiced ease. He drew in as deep of a breath as he could manage, trying to calm himself as Vulf tried to settle things down.

“It's nothing you need to worry about, kid, I promise. It's a one-off, some heckler- he won't get on the air again. And I was talkin’ to Chuckie- we'll get it all settled out, tell viewers it was some spooky promotional slop for his gig.”

“That's- alright, great, perfect for the viewers. But you know who that was, and you're going to tell me. What's going on?”

“I promise, it's nothing to do with you.”

[...]