I have an obnoxious follow-up question ready in my head about the beards on Game of Thrones, but I don't want to force it. Rick Ross is here to promote chicken and spread the Gospel of Wingstop. He's enjoying himself. His sister is in the crowd. He's in his element, surrounded by food, family, and all the pleasures of a celebrity-brand relationship.
Later, I circle back to the merch area, get a swag bag, along with my very own gold-chain chicken necklace, and head out into the night, the aroma of lemon pepper still in the air.
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