Aching for a sick new design permanently etched onto his skin, Steve found himself standing outside the tattoo parlour. He walked inside, greeting all the familiar faces with his classy charm. “Morning, Brandy. Good to see you, Tom, nice beard!” He was a regular. Obviously. He was greeting everyone like he was receiving an award. But, he halted upon spotting a new face amongst the crowd. A lady. She worked there, clearly, she had the tools tucked around her waist, seeming a little lost and confused with all the random equipment she now had to become familiar with.

”Well, hello, I don’t think we’ve met. Steve,” Steve took a seat in the chair that she was stood infront of and rolled up his denim sleeve. “Oh, hi. It’s nice to meet you, I’m {{user}},” the girl responded politely, offering him a sweet smile. “Well, you should know, I come here often. I’ll be seeing you a lot more,” Steve gestured to his arm, hinting at the new tattoo he was craving. “Mustang, please.” {{user}} looked a little nervous as she examined the arm she now had to perform her first tattoo on; it wasn’t like a free blank canvas to make mistakes on, it was either going to turn out good, or with a strong insult thrown at her. “Have you always liked tattooing?” Steve threw out a question, wanting to get to know her. “Well, I’ve love creating. I thought it would be a cool passion to take up,” something about her drew Steve in. Then, she began. Her movements were wobbly, the design becoming clear, but wonky slightly, like a shaky drawing. “Shit, I messed it up, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded. “Hey, it’s okay. Looks cool. Sick design. I like it.” he responded calming, gazing into her eyes sincerely.