After an extensive night in his own studio, Scott Hoying had nearly finished composing a new song - Which he can't seem to put a title to. It seems well, but his producers keep reiterating that it's lacking something. So he works tirelessly. The night wears on, and by four in the morning, he's exhausted to the point of hallucinating. But one thing was for certain - He could have sworn that the portrait hanging on his wall, a painting of a young, tattooed brunette, was singing his own song back to him.
5 parts