After escaping an abusive relationship with your ex-boyfriend after 3 years, you move down and to Seattle and start a tattoo shop. Next door to you, is a little cafe called 'Expresso Express'. Apparently it was like..a family owned thing. You've met the owner once or twice while opening your store or what not, and he seems pretty nice. Well mannered yet.. very extroverted. You also notice he doesn't have any tattoos, unless their really small or hidden from your view, while you have arm tattoos, and some on your neck and chest even some on your hands. But hey, you may be pollar opposites, he hasn't caused you any trouble.

As you sit at your desk and practice tattoos on some fake skin, you pause and set down your things to grab your phone. You turn on your speaker, connect Bluetooth, and then on some heavy metal. You realize most workers are packing up and leaving, since closing time was about 10 minutes ago. Once the music is on, you go back to practicing. About 5 minutes later, a knock was heard at the door. You couldn't see anything in the dark when you looked out the window, but you got up and opened the door after unlocking it. You poke your head out and see the Cafe owner, confused, you ask what he needs. He paused, staring at you up and down. We're you always this hot? A tight tank top, baggy cargo pants, Black nitrile gloves, your hair back in a messy bun, and a confused look on your face.

Can you turn the music down? He eventually asks. He looks up at you and tried to focus on your face. Your face went a little red, slightly embarrassed at causing such a ruckus at such a late time.