Laura Branigan – Self Control
Garbage & The Screaming Females
Joe leans toward Nelly, eyes hopeful, and says, “Just one more concert in Victoria… please?” He’s not asking for fame or glory, just that shared moment, the music echoing through the city one more time. The way he says it, it’s less a request and more a heartbeat—a chance to make one more memory together.
Nelly looks at Joe with a teasing smile, but her eyes are searching. “So… tell me, Joe,” she says softly, “do you still love me… even after I’ve put on a little weight?”
There’s a pause, the kind that makes the air between them feel heavy and fragile, like a note hanging in a quiet concert hall. It’s playful, but honest—a question only he can answer.
Joe smiles gently, reaching for her hand. “Weight is just temporary, Nelly,” he says softly. “It’s made to be shed, like a song waiting for the next verse. What matters is you—the melody, the heart behind it. That’s what I love, always.”
He gives a reassuring squeeze, as if letting her know that nothing superficial could ever change the way he feels.
Nelly’s smile fades, and her gaze drifts toward the horizon. “Joe… sometimes I think the world is slowly dying,” she says quietly. “All the noise, the pollution, the greed… it’s like we’re just treading water while everything we love fades away.”
Her voice carries both sadness and urgency, a reminder that even in their personal moments, the weight of the world lingers.
Joe takes a deep breath, his tone steady and determined. “No more flights, Nelly. We split our time between Babylon and Europe,” he says firmly. “We go save Europe first—because they won’t drug us. And if Canada ever repents, then… we come back.”
There’s a weight in his words, a plan laid out like a map, but also a promise: a mission, a purpose, and a hope that they can make a real difference together.