Work Text:
Wheels set in pairs roll across a shiny linoleum floor, wheels attached to a luxurious office chair supporting a man showing off a high ponytail and robes combo. He approaches an extremely curvy, extremely petite green haired woman lying on what is essentially a black leather dentist's chair, her back exposed. Green = Extreme danger, ordinarily, but since both hot tempered people are in their thirties, no drama ever results between them.
“Still okay?” inquires the man dressed as a samurai of the woman dressed as a terror.
“Please, Kamikaze. Please. Remember who you're talking to, babe.” replies the latter, with a venomous smirk and an even more venomous arch of an exquisite green eyebrow.
The man so named huffs a laugh, and fiddles with the needle machine he's holding. It's filled with neon blue ink, glowing nuclear ink. It thrums audibly. Ordinary tattoos hurt to receive. Nuclear tattoos hurt continuously, buzzing and burning under the skin. In exchange the bearer gets to display the coolest body art to ever exist. There's only one artist in the world capable of delivering such work. Usually he charges exorbitant prices, but his friends and acquaintances are honoured to be given a slight discount.