The dim glow of the studio lights bathed Arthur in a warm, inviting hue, casting soft shadows across the cluttered desk strewn with notes, coffee cups, and half-forgotten pens. He leaned into the microphone, eyes locked on the computer screen where Italianbach’s face flickered in pixelated clarity. Outside, the city pulsed with life—honking horns, the distant wail of sirens, and the rhythmic cadence of footsteps on wet pavement—a chaotic symphony that only seemed to fuel Arthur’s focus.

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as disbelief painted his features. “What’s this guy talking about?” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with incredulity. “Women only exist in heaven? I mean, come on! Women are heaven on earth, in my opinion. They’re laughter in the mornings, calm in the chaos, fire in the dark. That’s real magic right there.” The words tumbled out with his usual mix of humor and passion, reverberating through the studio, rich and alive, filling every corner with energy.

On the other end, Italianbach leaned back in his chair, the glow of his desk lamp highlighting a sly, amused smile. “You think that’s an exaggeration, Arthur?” he replied, one eyebrow arching in playful challenge, his voice carrying a teasing lilt.

Arthur’s grin widened, a spark of mischief igniting in his eyes. “Exaggeration? Maybe. But honestly? Anyone who’s ever met an extraordinary woman knows—this world wouldn’t survive without a little heaven walking around on it.” His laughter spilled into the mic, blending with the distant hum of the city, a perfect counterpoint to Italianbach’s restrained amusement.