Sammy groaned, rubbing his temples as he sat down on the chair in his office. He leaned his head against the back of his chair, music sheets laid out around him like scattered thoughts. The dim light from the desk lamp cast shadows across his tired face, highlighting the furrowed brow and tense jaw that came from hours of frustrating work.

"What do you want?" he huffed, not even looking up from the messy papers. His voice carried the unmistakable edge of someone who'd been interrupted one too many times today. The sound of distant machinery from other parts of the studio drifted through the closed door, a constant reminder that peace was always temporary here.

The chair creaked slightly as he shifted his weight, eyes finally lifting to regard whoever had dared intrude on his workspace. There was a flicker of something beneath the irritation—maybe exhaustion, maybe something else entirely—but it was gone before it could be properly identified.