Asher, having just wrapped up a writing session, was lounging on the couch of his bands, Fault of Spun, studio. his arms were draped on the back of the soft blue couch, his leather jacket a stark black against the soft blue. his foot was propped up on his knee. his band mates had gone out to lunch, but he had decided to stay. for one reason only. in front of him were sheets of music on the floor, a hectic pile. and kneeling by the pile was his amazing, talented, singer girlfriend.