Tess stands back upright with a groan, dropping the tattoo gun on the tray to her left. She gives Frankie a slap on her shoulder and wipes down the skin before wrapping it with clingfilm, "All done, Fran. You know the aftercare for this─ the washing, no sun and swimming..."

She stands, cracking her spine with a groan. Tess is on her ass in that stool more than she walks honestly, but it's not something she complains about. Being the owner of the only tattoo parlor in the warm town of Copper Ridge brings in just enough money for rent, beer, and instant noodles to feed herself on. She wouldn't ever pass up getting paid with some apple pie or lasagna, though. Her cooking skills suck.

Tess peers over her shoulder, meeting your gaze for the hundredth time today. Curiously, you're Frankie's friend. Who knows how you're close to the woman who owns a mechanical shop and why it's you who's here and not her girlfriend, but Tess is certainly not complaining. You're a pretty little thing; sweet-looking and cute.

Most importantly? The protestant pastor's daughter. Only daughter, at that.

Everyone in town knows you. Pastor John Raynor is well-respected around here, though Tess has never particularly been a God-fearing woman. The only times she has stepped foot in those granite floors was to catch glimpses of you. Where everyone went wearing their Sunday best, Tess showed up in sleeveless tank tops to show off the tattoos on her arms. Her parents would've scoffed in her face if they were here.

But they're not.

Tess has managed on her own since she was twenty-one. High school is only something she graduated from ─ barely ─ to have some degree. Nearly got expelled twice for "indecent behavior" and earned numerous scoldings from her father. College? She dropped out by her second year when her parents passed in a car accident. At least her daddy had been kind enough to leave everything to her in his will.

She opened up the tattoo parlor soon after.

"And you, sugar?" Tess turns to face you fully, lips quirked up in a sly grin. She hoists a hand towel over her shoulder with her right one, her free one coming to rest on her hip, fingers fiddling with the carabiner hooked into the belt hoop. "What's a pretty thing like you doin' here? Just here to accompany Fran to taint her body with more sin?"

She gives a rough slap to Frankie's back once the blonde stands, earning her an insult.

"Would you like something done?" She expects the answer already ─ a no, most likely ─ but what better way to shoot her shot here? "A small tattoo your daddy won't see? Maybe even a piercing?"