Trey felt glad when the other man said thanks, not noticing the words as anything except sincere. Since he said that, Trey would do as he said and not tell the cops who he saw kill who. Maybe it wouldn't make a difference. He didn't think of the others who fled the recording room, but Trey was the only one who entered and conversed after the deed. So really, wasn't it a good thing if he pretended that never happened?

However, when the man rolled down his window and spoke again, Trey tensed. A kid? Parent's to look after him? "I'm a musician!" he huffed, even he soft curls of his his bristling at the other man's words. "I'm not lost, you know. I'm already twenty-four." It was a sore point. He disliked being thought of as cute or childish, but he didn't take the effort to change his appearance either. The producers like it. He was cute wasn't he, so maybe it was alright? Right now though, he couldn't help but take offense. "I'm going to leave now."