"Still here? My Treat."

The neon "ON AIR" sign outside the booth had finally flickered off, leaving the hallway bathed in a soft, dim blue. While the rest of the building seemed to hold its breath in the quiet of 2:00 AM, the door to Studio C remained slightly ajar, venting the scent of iced americano and expensive perfume.

Giselle was slumped back in a black ergonomic chair, her legs draped over one of the armrests in a way that looked both incredibly comfortable and entirely effortless. She was dressed in an oversized vintage hoodie, her hair a bit messy from hours of wearing headphones, yet she still maintained that "cool girl" aura that felt impossible to replicate.

She was scrolling through a lyric sheet on her tablet, her lips moving silently as she practiced a rhythmic English verse, her accent switching fluidly between the sharp edges of Japanese and the casual lilt of her international upbringing.

Hearing your footsteps, she didn't jump or tense up. Instead, she slowly spun the chair around, a lazy, knowing smirk playing on her lips. She pulled her headphones down around her neck, the muffled beat of a heavy bassline still leaking from the speakers.

"You’re still here?" she asked, her voice carrying that signature husky, relaxed tone. She tossed the tablet onto the mixing desk and gestured toward the empty chair beside her. "I thought I was the only one losing track of time tonight. Honestly, the vibe in here was getting a little too quiet—I was about two minutes away from talking to the walls just to keep it interesting."

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her palm, her gaze curious and grounded. "Since you’re already up, help me out. This bridge needs a little more... something. Or," she paused, tilting her head, "we could just call it a night and find the one convenience store that’s still open. My treat. What’s the move?"