The speakers hummed around two young performers - a boy and a girl - seated on the terrace of a small café nestled in an Italian town. Music flowed through the street, carried by the soft night air. The boy, with a microphone in hand, sat perched on his stool - clearly the singer. His voice reverberated through the speakers, filling the narrow passageways. His style was singular, distinctly his own, drawing glances not only for his sound but for the way he carried himself.

Beside him, the girl sat as well, a guitar balanced on her thigh, her fingers moving deftly across the strings, never pausing in their dance. The dim lights illuminated the delicate lines of her face, catching in her hair, which shimmered faintly under the glow. Her focus remained entirely on her music; her foot tapped steadily to the rhythm, keeping time with the melody she created. Yet despite the energy she poured into her playing, she remained discreet, a quiet presence beside the singer, as if her melody were simply an accompaniment rather than the very element drawing passersby to stop and listen.

Tom and Georg were just passing by the café when Tom’s gaze was drawn to the duo. He hesitated, eyes lingering on them for a moment before they found a table nearby. Neither of them ordered anything - they just watched.

Tom’s dark eyes remained fixed on the girl, following the movement of her hands as they danced over the strings. He rested his chin on his knuckles, his attention locked solely on her, lost in the subtle intensity of her presence.