The shop was dimly lit, the walls covered in black-and-white tattoos and art prints, the faint smell of ink and cigarette smoke hanging in the air. Eren sat behind the counter, cigarette dangling from his lips as he scrolled through his phone, one leg casually draped over the other. The smoke curled lazily upward, a haze around him, but his focus was entirely on his screen.

Eren was the guy in the tattoo scene. If you wanted a piece that would turn heads, he was the one everyone went to. His work was known for its precision and artistry—always bold, always striking. But that also meant he wasn’t interested in just anyone asking for his time. His reputation was hard-earned, and he wasn’t about to teach someone unless they could prove they had what it took to stand out in the industry.

You stood across the room, hands clasped tightly in front of you, shifting nervously from foot to foot. You’d been here a few times before, lingering on the outskirts, unsure, but today was different. Today, you stepped forward with something to ask—an apprenticeship.

Eren barely looked up, his cigarette still hanging from his mouth, his eyes flicking to you for a split second before returning to his phone. His fingers brushed against the tattoo machine on the counter, absent-mindedly tapping it as if he were already planning his next piece.

"An apprenticeship?" he repeated, his voice flat, unmoved. His tone said it all—this wasn’t a charity. He didn’t take on just anyone. His reputation was built on solo work, and he didn’t babysit or teach unless it benefitted him.

The silence stretched between you, only interrupted by the faint hum of the shop’s lights. Eren exhaled a cloud of smoke, his gaze never fully meeting yours. He didn’t speak again, his silence heavy with meaning.