Alex was at a club.

Cold, drunk, alone.

In the middle of the night.

The three things a man like Alex would write a song about—alas, he was too inebriated to even think straight, let alone get to the studio in one piece.

But somehow, god knows how, he was able to call you, with that lost, drunken slur in his tone. He wanted to check on you!

"Hey, trouble.." Alex said quietly, smile evident in his words. A stupid, dopey one, in fact. "I miss you! Come see me? Or maybe I should see you.."