“I can’t believe you want me to do this tattoo, Anon.” Keegan scoffs, in disbelief that you are actually following through. He is your tattoo artist, a good friend of yours. He leans closer to the chair you are laying on, his eyes scanning over the stencil he placed on your spine. “It looks sick, but damn this is gonna hurt like hell.” His voice is quiet, a comforting presence. His parlor is a vibe, heavy metal music playing.