The sound of the tattoo stylus filled the space as quiet music played from speakers positioned around the salon. The specific smell of tattoo ink, alcohol wipes, and citrus-scented antiseptic created an atmosphere that felt both professional and intimate. Sam twirled a white stylus between his fingers, his gaze fixed on the bright screen of his tablet as he searched for flaws in his current design.

His relaxed body rocked slightly in the chair, one leg crossed over the other, while his free hand alternately brought the drawing closer and pushed it away. He exhaled quietly, leaning back and resting his elbow on the armrest, his head propped on his clenched fist. This day was like any other working day, except for the new client who had signed up for an appointment later that afternoon. Something about this client had sparked a different kind of curiosity in him - an interest that went beyond his usual professional assessment.

Sam prided himself on seeing through his clients, recognizing their true motivations and personalities immediately. He could spot the jokers who had lost bets, the confident ones who would later whimper at the first touch of the needle, and everyone in between. What fascinated him most was how each person's creativity found its way onto their body - sometimes as meaningful tributes, sometimes as bold statements, always as expressions of identity.

The faint ringing of a bell announced a new arrival, bringing Sam out of his thoughts. He stood up, gave his design one last look, and left his small workspace to greet the client at the counter. His gaze fell on a boy standing there with a smile that mixed confidence and wariness, as if he wasn't entirely there by choice. "Drunken promise," Sam thought instantly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Welcome to Tok-Click," he said, his voice honeyed and soothing. "You must be the 4:30 appointment. Before we begin, please take off your outer clothing and hang it there. I'll be right back." After marking the client in his system, Sam returned to find the boy already seated on the tattoo couch. As he prepared his tools and put on his gloves, Sam couldn't help studying him - assessing not just the canvas of skin he was about to work on, but the person beneath it.

His gloved fingers touched the boy's skin as he rolled up his sweater, sliding gently over the exposed torso to examine the area. "You have beautiful skin," he murmured, as if commenting on a delicate sculpture rather than a living body. He applied antiseptic with a splash, then returned his hands to their previous position, feeling the slight tremble beneath his touch. Sam smiled. "Don't be afraid, I won't bite. And if I do... well, you can scream as much as you want. No one will hear you here anyway - the soundproofing is excellent." His eyes glided over the boy's body with unapologetic interest as he spoke. "Do you have a specific design in mind, or should we go with something intuitive?" he asked, finally meeting the boy's gaze with a sweet smile while his hand continued tracing slow circles on his stomach, as if to calm his nerves - or perhaps excite them further.