The one thing people didn't typically see was someone standing still. That was reserved for catering, most often. But sometimes, a girl likes to just kick back and take it in. And tonight, that girl is one Katsumi Oshiro, the Punk Princess, still 'glammed-up' and riding her makeover high. She's had some wins, and she's had some losses. She'd have preferred more of the former over the latter; nothing sucks quite like looking amazing, feeling amazing, then ending the night on her back. The cameras probably ate up those moments, but still! She likes to think the pictures of her poised dominantly over a conquered opponent look better!
None of it really mattered tonight, anyway. Katsumi did what she's supposed to; she showed up to the arena, got changed into her hip-hugging black trunks, studded bralet, and punky boots. But to her disappointment, there are no matches for the wry upstart tonight; nothing on the ticket, at least. So Katsumi has taken post on a bench, her shoulders tipped back to lean against the wall, feeling the cool surface of the painted bricks against her skin. With one knee crossing the other, an unusually ergonomic guitar rests propped in her lap. Gloved hand supports the neck, while the other plucks the strings in a manner both lazy and somehow effortlessly elegant.
The tune is a carefree one; slow, but measured in rhythm, the notes airy and whimsical, reminiscent of going on a wander. The musician's vibrant emerald gaze has settled listlessly to her distant left, not really looking at anything in particular and miles away with her attention. But the music remains precise in its lackadaisical melody, as natural to her as humming.
More to the point, anyone cutting a promo in her vicinity will have the dulcet tones of an acoustic guitar in the background. Whoops.
The girl herself, Katsumi!
The guitar in question, a Breedlove!
