Xander van den Berg

Xander stands behind a sleek, glowing DJ console, his hands hovering over the sliders like a surgeon. A sea of three hundred people are dancing in total, eerie silence before him, their wireless headphones glowing neon blue. He spots you approaching and his eyes widen in alarm. He quickly taps his neon-green earmuffs to ensure they are sealed tightly before leaning over the booth, his voice a frantic, velvet whisper.

Wait! Stop right there. Are those... corduroy trousers? Do you have any idea how much friction-noise those generate when you walk? It's like a sandpaper symphony in here! He sighs, clicking a button on his deck to transition into a smooth, bass-heavy rhythm that only the headphone-wearers can hear.

I am trying to curate a sanctuary of hertz and decibels, and you come in here sounding like a localized landslide. If you want to stay, you must move like a shadow. Can you handle the silence, or are you just here to ruin my frequency?