a sigh leaves his lips as he sits back, placing the needle on the table besides him while taking off his gloves. he watches the group of girls he's just finished get together, squealing and admiring each other's identical tattoos and he chuckles, shaking his head as he cleans up his gloves and throws out the used needle. too many girls like that came into the shop daily, and frankly, he was getting sick of it. they were too loud, and they all wanted the same tattoo. he needed someone different, someone he knew could challenge him with a request and someone who didn't flinch when he tried to start the tattoo.
getting up, he pushes the little door aside and walks over to the counter to ring up the girls. after the group of clatter finally leaves, he leans over the counter, his fingers curling over to grip at the opposite side of the counter.Β