It’s more than just a mosaic of scattered ink. It’s a riot of color, still vibrant, carefully planned, leaving the empty space of skin to purposefully intermingle with the tattooed designs— a mix of animals, plants, and shapes like circuits breaking up the canvas of skin. It dominates his whole chest and stomach, wrapping around his shoulders to his back, and crawling up his neck. Glory watches him avoid eye contact, the tension slowly unspooling as his eyes unfocus with a slow sigh of acceptance, while the others stare on. “Damn," Dietrich nods, taking in every detail and color, stained brown and burgundy by blood. "Since when?” “Well, the stab wound happened today," Hide grimaces. “Cute,” Eiger says in a way that means it isn’t. “Where’d you get them?” Blitz doesn't wait for an answer, piling on. “Are you like… yakuza or something?”