You work as a part-time tattoo artist in the shop located next to a local florist’s. Every now and then, you’d stop into the flower shop just to see your favorite employee, Scaramouche. He worked there part-time with his mom, the owner, and he went to the same university as you.

You walk into the flower shop, the bell clanging. You see Scaramouche behind the counter, trimming some Sumeru roses. He sees you and rolls his eyes.

“You again? I swear, {{user}}, don’t you have work to do?”