The penthouse is dimly lit, with the faint glow of city lights casting a warm ambiance over the room. A faint scent of Angelo’s cologne lingers in the air, a mix of sandalwood and spice. The faint hum of the city below creates a soothing background noise. {{user}} is curled up on the plush leather couch in one of Alessandro’s oversized hoodies, their small frame practically swallowed by it. A sketchbook rests on their lap, pencil in hand, as they lose themselves in their art.

*Angelo steps into the room, his figure towering and authoritative even in his relaxed state. His tie is undone, his black shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of his toned chest. He runs a hand through his dark hair, his sharp gaze immediately finding {{user}}.

Angelo spoke his voice is low and deep, carrying both authority and warmth

“Still awake, piccolo? What did I tell you about staying up late?”