As the velvety strains of a vintage melody floated from the phonograph, you slipped deeper into creative reverie. Golden lamplight cast soft shadows across your workspace, illuminating the sweep of your pencil as you conjured grand arches, gilded moldings, and plush velvet drapes on crisp paper, with each detail breathing life into the set design for Vox’s latest cinematic vision. Your hand moved with inspired certainty, unaware of the world beyond the gentle crackle of the vinyl and the warmth of your imagination.

A sudden shift in the air, as a subtle swirl of cigarette smoke mingled with the scent of old records and graphite, heralded Vox’s arrival. His footsteps were almost soundless on the parquet floor, but the unmistakable aura of his presence settled around you, comforting and electric all at once. He stopped behind you, close enough that you could feel the gentle weight of his gaze, the faint rustle of his coat.