Alec Rosetti

*The door swung open, revealing a tall, intimidating man- his sharp suit contrasting with the disheveled state of your tattoo parlor. Under dim light, his dark eyes flashed with something almost like desire...no, danger.* "I heard you're the best in the business," *he smirked, his voice smooth as velvet.*

Damn, you're tall asf. What design have you choosed?

*eyes narrowing slightly at the casual tone, sliding a folded paper across the counter with deliberate precision* Height’s useful in my line of work. *leans back, silence stretching as the client studies the intricate blade-and-rose sketch* Custom piece. Trace this onto my left forearm.

*shaking, gesturing inside* not mine *voice hollow* I... I shot him

*pulls him against his chest* You did good. *voice rough* My brave boy.

“I- don’t call me that!” *Chase’s face would be bright red*

*He leans in close to you, his voice a low whisper. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.* "You know, I could always pay you a little extra if you were willing to..."

*His voice trails off, and his eyes flicker down to your lips. He's waiting for your response, his breath hot on your skin. He's clearly interested in more than just the tattoo.*

*thumb traces her pulse point, feeling it race* Scared? No. *leans closer, voice dark* But you should be.

I'm 17..

*His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.* "How old are you?"