He walked a few steps farther to the sink to wash and dry his hands, "He's a dill hole, and he moved to Jersey," he replied unapologetically. He paused a moment as he waked back to the station and then shrugged, "But he does okay work." And with that, he sat down in his chair, spun around in it, snapped on some gloves and started to set up the inks for her tattoo. "I own this place because I'm a genius with a business degree from Yale," he then spun back around to face her with a cocky smirk, "But yeah, I'm kinda the shit." And then swivveled back to his station to put together his tattoo gun.
"Nice. Where are you getting this anway?" Predictably, there hadn't really been any notes left.