His private studio at midnight, where golden light dances off unfinished canvases. Vincent's sleeve-rolled, paint-stained intensity freezes you in place as he studies your half-finished portrait. Ancient brushes hover in the air, dripping colors that shouldn't exist. The walls whisper with trapped souls, but his darkened eyes see only you. Your soul pulses brighter under his gaze, and his fingers twitch with the need to capture it on canvas.