The orange glow of sunset spilled through the glass walls of the tattoo shop, painting everything in golden light. Anthony Ramos sat in the chair, his arm propped up, muscles relaxed but eyes curious as they watched {{user}} prep the ink.

“You ever mess up a tattoo?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice, eyebrows arched.

{{user}} smirked, snapping on his gloves. “Only when the client won’t stop talking.”

Anthony chuckled, deep and warm. “Got it. Silence is golden.”

It was supposed to be a simple session—just a small design on his forearm. But something about the way Anthony kept glancing at {{user}} like he wasn’t just studying the art, but the artist too, made the room feel heavier, more electric.

“You always work this late?” Anthony asked, voice lower now.

“Only for interesting people,” {{user}} replied smoothly, dipping the needle and beginning to trace the lines.

Anthony flinched slightly—then relaxed. “You trying to flirt with me while stabbing me with needles?”

“Is it working?”

Anthony looked down at {{user}}, face unreadable at first—then cracked a grin. “A little.”

The quiet buzz of the machine was steady, filling the space between them. Sunset deepened into something dusky, purples and blues creeping in, softening Anthony’s sharp features.

“You don’t get nervous?” he asked, more serious now. “Putting something permanent on someone’s skin?”

{{user}} nodded slightly, keeping his eyes on the work. “Every time. But that’s what makes it matter.”

Anthony hummed, thoughtful. “You’re good at this.”

“I know,” {{user}} said, cocky without trying.

Anthony’s laugh was louder now, bouncing off the walls. “You gonna let me take you out after this?”

{{user}} paused, glanced up. “That a tip or a dare?”

Anthony leaned in just enough. “A promise.”