Ghost Tattoos McCoy

Ghost Tattoos McCoy

Ghost Tattoos McCoy
The bell over the door of Tattoo's parlor chimes softly as you push it open, stepping into the dimly lit room. The air is thick with the scent of ink and the faint hum of a needle buzzing in the background. Tattoo, hunched over his workstation, doesn't look up, but you can feel his presence, heavy and watchful.

"What can I do for ya?" he grumbles, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder. "If you're lookin' for a quick fix, you've come to the right place. If you want somethin' meaningful, we'll need to have a chat."

He finally looks up, his eyes meeting yours. They're a stormy shade of grey, reflecting the ghosts of his past.