Press Tour (diluc + barbara)
Diluc sat in the studio while crew ran around, adjusting cameras and setting up a backdrop.
Their leg bounced. Their head felt like it was splitting open, and they felt like they could barely keep their eyes open.
They truly thought that they would implode the next time someone tried to talk to them. Every sound was too loud, every light was too bright, and every sensation made them want to leave and never return. But they had another interview to do, so they sat in their chair and their leg bounced.
Someone came up to them to check their mic pack, and another person came to touch up their makeup. Diluc stared into the void while the crew adjusted the volume on their microphone. Someone called 1 minute to air, and Diluc tried to shake themselves out of the mildly pleasant emptiness they had fallen into. Their leg bounced.
The interviewer came to sit in the chair next to them, and smiled at them while straightening herself up. They gave her a smile back (oh god that felt so forced) and tried to sit up so that no one could tell that they hadn’t had a chance to sleep well since the selection. Their manager gave him a sympathetic look from behind the camera.
The cameraman gave them a signal. 5 seconds, 4, 3, 2, 1…
“Hello Europe! This is Audrey Martin with BBC One, and I’m here today with the winner of Unser Lied Für Zagreb and the German representative for this year’s edition of the Eurovision Song Contest, Diluc Ragnvindr! Welcome!”
It won’t take long, they told themselves. Just make it through the next hour and you can go back to the hotel and pass out. “Hello, Audrey, thank you for having me here.” Their leg bounced.
———
Barbara was desperate. She was desperate for sleep. If she couldn’t get that, then she was desperate for strong coffee, desperate for some Extra-Hot Cheetos, desperate for SOMETHING that could keep her awake and aware enough to make it through this press tour.
She was thrilled to be there, don’t get her wrong. She was just tired. That was all.
She had entered herself to be considered for internal selection, and yeah, of course she wanted to be chosen, but she didn’t really think it would happen. She was freshly 19, just out of high school. She had performed major gigs before, even toured with other artists, but this was on a whole other level.
She gratefully accepted an offer of a coffee run made by her manager, and he promised that he would go find some as soon as he knew that she was settled in and getting ready for the interview.
They entered the BBC One building, and were met by an intern who led them up to the floor. Before they went in, he handed them both a pair of headphones and told them to be quiet when they entered, explaining that the interview with the German representative had gotten delayed, so it wasn’t quite finished.
Barbara hadn’t quite had a chance to do much looking into the other contestants, other than the occasional final she happened to catch. She had heard all of the competing songs at least once, of course, but she was so exhausted that she had barely retained any knowledge about the majority of them. She knew that Jean had won the Belgian selection, and had reached out to congratulate her. She got a nice response back, but both she and Jean had been so busy that they hadn’t had a chance to talk.
And of course, she had watched Dora that year. How could she not have? Croatia was hosting, weren’t they? Everyone wanted to see if someone could live up to the previous year’s winners. Fischl seemed like a promising contestant, based on her performance there, but she would just have to wait and see how she stacked up compared to everyone else at the contest.
Barbara’s manager handed her a coffee, which she immediately sipped. It burned her tongue, but she felt a little more awake, so she took another sip. She took a look at the German contestant, who, by the looks of them, was just as exhausted as she was.
Still… hot damn. She was a lesbian, but she could still appreciate beautiful men (or masculine-presenting people) when she saw them.
The interviewer signed off just as Barbara tuned back in, and the German representative stood and took off their microphone. They rubbed their eyes, shook the interviewer’s hand and said something she couldn’t hear, handed the mic pack to a crew member, and promptly walked over to a man (she figured that he was their manager) and slumped onto his shoulder. Their manager patted their back, handed them a pair of earbuds and an iPod, and the two made their way to the door. Barbara approached them shyly. She was a little (a lot) intimidated of this pretty redhead, and she hadn’t had any direct interaction with any of the other contestants yet (other than Jean, of course).
“Um, hello there!” She stuck out her hand for a handshake. “My name is Barbara Pegg. I’m the Swiss representative this year!”
They pulled out an earbud and shook her hand. “Diluc Ragnvindr. I’m representing Germany. I listened to your song for the contest. You’re quite talented.”
“Oh, thank you so much! I was able to watch Unser Lied Für Zagreb live this year! Your live performance was fantastic!” That was one of the few selected songs she had been able to recall while sleep deprived.
“Thank you very much. I would enjoy to continue this conversation further, but I believe that’s your manager calling you, and I wouldn’t want to cut down on your time to get ready for the interview.”
“Oh, you’re right! Well, it was nice to meet you! Besides, I’m sure this isn’t the last time we’ll run into each other!”
“It was nice to meet you too, Barbara. Good luck with the rest of the press tour. I know it’s not easy, especially not for someone your age.”
“Thank you, you too!” Barbara then rushed off towards her manager, but she turned back to send a wave at Diluc, who waved back as he stepped out the door with his own manager.
Somehow, Barbara didn’t feel as scared or exhausted anymore. Still terrified, mind you, but it was nice to know that she had a friend.