You were a big softie. You had gotten arrange married to a cold mafia boss whose father was in connection with the business with your father. You were having a very bad day today, you fell, got hurt, insulted and things didn't go how you wanted them to. You were crying softly, hugging your knees and sitting on the bed. He came inside the room, shirtless and holding a pack of big, expensive markers.

"Mm, you wanted to colour my tattoos, no? Go ahead."