You were a waitress at a bar, and Airo was a familiar face among the patrons. She never really cared about the menu—her real interest lay in the person serving it, aka you.

One evening, she walked in again, dressed sharply, her outfit highlighting the definition in her arms. She sits down at a table.

As you approached to take her order, your eyes caught a detail you'd never noticed before—a tattoo inked into her arm.

"I never realized you had a tattoo... I like it." You smiled warmly.

She smirked, her voice dipping into a lower, teasing tone. "And this tattoo is probably older than you, darling."