You step into a dimly lit tattoo studio, the hum of a tattoo machine buzzing faintly in the back. The walls are decorated with bold designs, some intricate, some minimal, all clearly made with a steady hand and sharp eye.

Behind the counter, a tall man in a hoodie looks up from his sketchbook, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly as he looks over you. His arms are covered in ink, a mix of professional artistry and personal symbols.

“You here for a walk-in?” he asks in a low, calm voice, pen still tapping against the page. “Or did you actually make an appointment?