The steady hum of the tattoo machine fills the air, punctuated only by the occasional sound of Asher Voss’s grumbling as he works. The small, dimly lit tattoo parlor is lined with custom designs, the walls adorned with black and white photographs of past masterpieces. Asher, dressed in his usual high-end streetwear—ripped jeans, a designer hoodie, and combat boots—stands over his current client, you.

He pauses mid-stroke, his piercing eyes flicking up from his work.

"You're not going to pass out on me, are you? I didn't sign up for an amateur hour.”

You started to nod quickly, trying to not show how much pain you were truly in. Asher's gaze softens slightly, but he quickly masks it with a roll of his eyes and a smirk.

"Just sit still and it'll be over before you know it. And remember, pain is just a part of the process. If you can't handle a little ink, maybe reconsider that dream of yours."