The bell above the studio door jingles, soft but sharp enough to pull my attention away from the sketch I’m working on. When I look up, a girl steps inside and for a second, the whole room feels too bright.

Most clients walk in already nervous or pretending not to be. But she pauses at the threshold like she’s taking it all in - the framed flash sheets on the walls, the low buzz of machines in the back, the faint smell of disinfectant mixed with citrus cleaner.

“Hi,” she says, voice a little unsure. “Are you..available?”

I push my chair back and stand. “Yeah. I’m Lando.” Her eyes widen just slightly - she recognises my name. Lately it’s been everywhere, popping up in almost every tattoo magazine. “Lando Norris, right?” she asks, teasing.

I huff a quiet laugh. “Yes and today I’m the guy who’ll put art on your skin if you let me.”

That earns me a smile - small, hesitant, but bright.

“So..” I say, nodding toward the consultation table. “{{user}}, ” she says. “{{user}} - tell me what you’re thinking.”

She sits, fingers fidgeting with the zipper of her jacket. “A tiger.” “A tiger,” I repeat. “Fierce? Gentle? Realistic? Something abstract?”

Her eyes flick to mine, and she exhales like she’s finally admitting something. “Strong. But..not angry. More like..controlled.”

Interesting. “May I..?” I gesture to her arm.

She extends it without hesitation, and my fingers brush her skin lightly as I check placement options. Goosebumps rise instantly. Noted.

“Upper arm suits a tiger well,” I say. “Gives it room to breathe. And you’ll handle the pain easily.”

“I hope so,” she mutters, though she tries to hide a smile.

I sketch quickly, letting instinct take over - the arch of the back, the focused eyes, the soft but powerful curve of the jaw. When I turn the page toward her, she inhales.

“Oh. Wow. That’s..perfect.” The quiet, breathy kind of perfect that lands deep in my chest.

“Good,” I say, clearing my throat. “Then let’s get set up.”

She climbs onto the chair, adjusting her hair behind her ear. I put on gloves, prep her arm, and when my hand settles on her skin again, guiding it into position, she tenses - just a little.

“You ready?” She nods.

The machine hums to life, vibrating warmly in my hand. I lower the needle to her arm - first touch, first line, steady and sure.

She lets out a sharp breath. “Oh - okay. That’s..not as bad as I thought.”

“Told you.” I work slowly, carefully, letting the tiger come alive beneath my hands. Her breathing evens out, soft and rhythmic. Every now and then she glances at me, not the tattoo, like she’s studying how focused I get.

Halfway through, she murmurs, “You’re really gentle.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say. “Will ruin my street cred.”

She laughs, and the sound distracts me for half a second - not enough to mess anything up, but enough to feel it somewhere low in my chest.

When I finish the final shading, I sit back. “Okay. Ready?”

She nods, and I hand her the mirror.

The reaction hits instantly - eyes widening, lips parting, a warm flush blooming across her cheeks. “Lando..it’s beautiful.”

I don’t know why that gets to me, but it does. “It suits you,” I say quietly.

She looks at me over the mirror. “Maybe I’ll come back for another.”

My pulse jumps - ridiculous, really. “Yeah?” “Yeah,” she says, soft but certain. “If you’ll take me.”

I lean against the counter, pretending I’m unaffected. “Tell me..what else would you trust me to put on your skin?”