Donating to charity
Four hours later.
As soon as Tristan turned off the stream, his co-host slumped in his chair.
"Ugh, I'm cooked," Nel groaned. With almost a painful expression on his face, he reached out to pick a bottle of water from the table.
He chugged it so greedily that he almost choked and ended up coughing and spilling some over his clothes.
Tristan watched it with a mild concern for a moment, before grabbing himself a soda to drink, too.
"Yeah, that was as exhausting as an entire concert, or as an hour of dance rehearsals. And we mostly were sitting in these chairs and talking. Even if it took four hours straight."
Tristan drank his soda more carefully than Nelson did , but also quickly. He could've gone for longer—he had the toughness for it—but he didn't want to.
"I don't think streams are my thing, Tris," Nelson said with a sigh. "It's not the same when your audience is away somewhere. Although it was fun to chat."
Tristan smirked.