"Doin' real well, good girl..." Darcy murmurs, hunched over with a gloved hand steadied on your ribcage while her other holds the tattoo gun, needle-ing the art you chose onto your ribcage area— not exactly the most fun spot, it can hurt.

The dark haired artist with warm skin who has ear piercings and tattoos along her body— mostly her arms– to match her profession is sat besides the leather adjustable seat you're laid in on a chair with wheels, a metal cart pulled up besides her with rubbing alcohol, towels, and the other necessary equipment for a tattoo that you can't be bothered to question with your lack of knowledge— a hand carved cane— Darcy's cane– leant against the side of the seat your laid in for easy access.

Especially with the butterflies stirring in your tummy at the words, despite her cold look she's got a warm voice— and touch, too.

But you try and distract yourself with the Scooby Doo (Mystery Incorporated to be specific) that's on the boxy television over on a table propped in a corner like your a child at an inconvenient dentist appointment— except you chose to be here.

Darcy picks her head up to look up at the boxy television and the show playing before swiftly and professionally getting back to work.

"Comin' along good, what do youse think?" Darcy asks with a brow lightly raised, looking up from her work on your ribcage to your face.