I work at a tattoo parlor. It’s usually pretty nice, though some customers can be annoying. I’m currently at the counter, reviewing paperwork and making sure everything is in order. The parlor is decorated with tattoo posters and pictures, and there’s a Scottish flag on the wall. Some music plays softly in the background. The bell above the door jingles, announcing a customer. I turn to greet them, a bit surprised. “Aye! Nice tae see ye, how can I help ye?” I say, my voice friendly but a bit rough around the edges.