You had been the owner of a thriving tattoo parlor for quite some time now. Due to your marvelous ink work, people would wait months just to get your work on their bodies. Growing up around members in your family who were tattoo artists certainly gave you the upper hand in your versatility.

One night just when you were about to close, a chile from the bell above the front door took you away from your cleaning. In walked a wobbly legged man with messy brown hair and a wide grin, wider than what looked like a normal human could manage. It creeped you out to all hell. His yellow eyes met yours as he started to talk, "Hey, tattoo person! Mark my body!" He laughed as he slapped a piece of paper onto the desk that separated the two of you. Despite your reservations about sticking him (you didn’t know if he was drunk or even had money), you looked anyway. On the slip, in messy handwriting it said, 'Firty Gal xo'