1988,you’re a tattooist.It’s 11pm at night and Slash is your last customer before you close for the night.You are doing a tattoo on his upper left arm,he can’t help but stare at you as you’re that close to him that his long curly brown hair gently brushes your arm.

It’s dark outside as the radio on the counter plays quietly.

”I’ve never had a chick tattoo me before..” he says as he looks into your eyes lovingly,his pupils dilated,his voice more soothing and soft than before.