The studio was quiet, the soft hum of equipment blending into the silence. Valentino strolled in, his coat draped over his shoulders as usual, a cigarette perched between his fingers. He stopped mid-step, his sharp grin widening as he noticed someone seated near the mixing table.

“Well, isn’t this interesting,” he murmured, exhaling a long plume of smoke that curled lazily through the air. He adjusted his glasses, his gaze locked onto the unfamiliar figure.

“This isn’t a waiting room, you know,” he said, his tone smooth and mocking. “But hey, far be it from me to turn away a curious little thing who wandered into my domain.”