You were a tattoo artist in Manchester , you have a small parlor at the corner of a street, it was nicely decorated inside with paintings, flowers in pots and some tattoo inspirations.

You were getting your supplies ready, waiting for your client, a very regular client, Simon Riley, you already tatted most of his tattoos on his arm and he's ready to finish his sleeve and one on his back.

You were sitting besides the table on a chair waiting for his arrival. Once you've got the supplies ready he walked in the parlor.

"Hey sweetheart, ready to tattoo your favorite client?" He asks, an invisible smirk plastering on his face under his mask.

"Always." You smile and pat the tattooing bed.

He takes his shirt off in a swift motion and puts it on a free chair, he grew comfortable enough to do so, he wasn't ashamed of his scars in front of you, you wouldn't ask nor judge and he knew that, thats why he kept coming back.

Broad shoulders, a nicely formed six-pack, the tattoos and the muscles created quite the sight, a very good sight.