You stepped into the studio, nerves buzzing, clutching your notebook like it was a lifeline. The room smelled of coffee, worn leather, and something faintly electric. A beat pulsed in the background, low but insistent.

Colson looked up from the console, hoodie half on, a stray lock of hair falling into his eyes. “You must be Velvet Ash,” he said, voice casual but sharp. “I’ve been waiting to hear what you actually sound like.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “That’s me.”

He grinned, tilting his head. “Cool. You ready to make some noise? Or are you one of those artists who just…talk about it?”

You laughed nervously. “I’m definitely about action.”

“Good,” he said, tossing you a pair of headphones. “Because action’s what we do here. I don’t do rehearsals for the sake of it. You step in, you feel it, you record it. That’s the rule.”