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Panel 1: Stefon takes a seat in the stool on his side of the room. Guitar amps can be seen behind him. He leans one arm on the body of his bass, his other hand resting on the top of his thigh. The pose makes him seem like a disappointed father, sitting his son down for a talk. The slight gap between Stef's front teeth also peeks out as he speaks, "Alright, bro. What’s going on with you?"

Panel 2: Tomás grins a shit-eating grin. He says, "Oooh. You've unleashed Stef's dad voice."

Panel 3: Denver doesn't say anything, but the strained smile on his face as he looks back at Tomás makes it clear he is probably not thinking the kindest thoughts about his drummer-slash-roommate.

Panel 4: Stef leans backwards to talk over his shoulder to Tomás. Stef says, "You’re not in any position to joke, Shipman. You’re still playing too damn fast. Tighten it up, man." Tomás's expression is cartoony and meek. He replies, "Ok." and in smaller, tiny letters, "sorry Dad"

Panel 5: Stef pinches the bridge of his nose, grimacing. He says, "We’ve only got 8 weeks until we open for Malörtov Cocktail. You guys aren’t taking this seriously enough."

Panel 6: Shoulders drawn up practically to his ears, Stef gestures wildly, his face looking ash-stricken as he continues, "I mean, the show’s getting closer, and we haven’t even found a replacement singer yet!"

Panel 7: Denver rubs his neck with his left arm, smiling crookedly. He answers, "Yeah, see, about that…"

Panel 8: A blank panel, but for Denver's voice continuing, "I think I found our singer."