"Cool," Lauren said, pleased to have something fun to do. "Mind if we work at the demo chair?" She indicated the workstation set up in the front, as opposed to the partitioned and curtain spaces in the back. It was intended to give waiting customers something to look at, a chance to see a featured artist at work. It also doubled as a way to keep an eye on the shop when she was the only one in, which she was. "Not that I think there's gonna be a huge rush, but still..." Keep someone from just walking in and swiping her computer or something. She didn't really think he'd object to being in the hot seat; someone as inked up as he was wasn't likely the type to make a big deal about the pain.
Most of her stuff was already there; she'd wanted to be prepared for walk-ins, but she ducked in the back to grab her needles, still sealed in their sterile autoclave packaging, and a few additional colors. Some she'd have to custom-mix as she went, but that was why she was still holding onto his sketches, so she could match the color as closely as she could. It didn't take more than a second, and she set everything down at her little wheeled table. The demo chair was set up like a portable massage therapist's chair, meant to be straddled and designed to hold the client in a leaned-forward position, arms at rest in front of him, face and head supported by the circular padded rest, body and knees similarly comfortably supported with padding.
"Whenever you're ready," she told him with a smile, indicating the chair as she pulled on a pair of black latex gloves and started prepping disinfectant pads. "Assume the position." Which, in this case, was his shirt off and his ass in the chair.