A tattoo parlor right next to the flower shop. Cloud was hitting the worst creative block of his life, deciding to stop by on his lunch break.

He looks at the vibrant petals, analyzing each one, unaware that the owner was deeply eyeing him.

The florist can't help but stare, wide-eyed as they observe the intricate ink designs on his biceps, his tight, blue t-shirt not helping the owner regain their focus.

He sat on the bench, taking out a sketchbook and moving the pencil in swift motions.