Axel's stomach dropped further down until he felt it between his knees. He didn't show that on his face, but a rush of anxiety took over him at the thought that someone could get sacked. He really did hide his true self well though. Even his band mates didn't know the true extent of his worrisome natures. And yet, all Axel did was scowl. "Whatever, I don't care who I drink with," he complained. It was a testament to how little time they spent drinking together that Silvestre hadn't seen him drunk. It wasn't that Axel got fully wasted every night, but he didn't moderate either. Like the cigarettes calling to him in the dressing room, he probably needed it. He waved one hand to Silvestre as he turned away.

"I'm gonna change. Meet you at the club in ten?" he asked, one eyebrow raised half in challenge and half in tease. A night of drinking with his rival promised for far more than he could handle. He didn't have a choice though did he? The manager kept staring them down, only relaxing his pointed glare slightly when Silvestre took the card. After a second, he sighed, accepting that his gamble won.

"Don't fuck this up..." With that last mutter, the manager walked away, nodding to the other band mates to make sure they would see his deal was honored. And really, he didn't care how or why the two rivals worked things out. Whatever result of getting filthy drunk in Vegas brought, it had to be better than this.

Axel watched him go for a second before turning again toward the dressing room. He didn't pause, just let his quick gait carry him there and through the closed door. At least here in private, he could reassemble some of the frayed nerves inside of him so that he might survive the night. With a groan, a single through ran through his mind as clear as his reflection in the vanity mirror. Damn, he was going to need a lot of alcohol.