Kaos lifted the tattoo machine and tilted his head, looking critically at the shadow he’d just created on Francis’s skin. “Can you sit fifteen more minutes?” he asked, and Francis nodded without taking off his headphones. Kaos dipped the needle in black ink and began to work again.
The bell chimed over the door, and voices he didn’t know, including those of little kids, came through the partially closed curtain. Francis nodded again, and Kaos put the machine on the tray. He kept his hands up so he wouldn’t mess with hygiene, and elbowed his way past the curtain.
He smiled. “Hi, guys, I’m Kaos. I run this place. Anything I can help you with?”
“Hi. We’re just going through town again and noticed there was a shop here we haven’t seen before,” the thirtysomething man said, taking in the art
