[Tsuzuki's hanging out at a table near-ish the stage with a tall drink that has an umbrella and a fruit skewer in it, and working his way earnestly down the drink with occasional breaks to eat a piece of pineapple or a cherry off his skewer.
This is exactly the kind of relaxing Sunday night he likes, and, rather to his surprise, most of the singers are really good.
He's developing a bit of a flush as the alcohol sets in, but he's still sober enough to happily wave anyone who looks like they're looking for a spot to one of the empty seats at his table.]
Hey, how're you doing? This was a great party idea, huh?
Group Singing
[He's five drinks in by the time the song he cued up comes up on the list, and he brightens instantly, bouncing to his feet and heading for the stage. The last singer hands over their microphone.
Waving eagerly, Tsuzuki strikes a pose in the center of the stage as the first notes ring out, and then begins to sing at the top of his lungs.]
Linda Linda...!
[What is this song choice? Is he secretly a sixty-year-old salaryman?
At least he's more or less in tune, even if his shirt's got the top two buttons undone and his tie's almost fallen off. Look: he got overheated, it's summer and he's been drinking, it seemed reasonable at the time.]
no subject
[Tsuzuki's hanging out at a table near-ish the stage with a tall drink that has an umbrella and a fruit skewer in it, and working his way earnestly down the drink with occasional breaks to eat a piece of pineapple or a cherry off his skewer.
This is exactly the kind of relaxing Sunday night he likes, and, rather to his surprise, most of the singers are really good.
He's developing a bit of a flush as the alcohol sets in, but he's still sober enough to happily wave anyone who looks like they're looking for a spot to one of the empty seats at his table.]
Hey, how're you doing? This was a great party idea, huh?
Group Singing
[He's five drinks in by the time the song he cued up comes up on the list, and he brightens instantly, bouncing to his feet and heading for the stage. The last singer hands over their microphone.
Waving eagerly, Tsuzuki strikes a pose in the center of the stage as the first notes ring out, and then begins to sing at the top of his lungs.]
Linda Linda...!
[What is this song choice? Is he secretly a sixty-year-old salaryman?
At least he's more or less in tune, even if his shirt's got the top two buttons undone and his tie's almost fallen off. Look: he got overheated, it's summer and he's been drinking, it seemed reasonable at the time.]