Adrian Blackwood

Everything turned out even better than expected. Adrian was calm, attentive, and professional: he listened to your wishes, helped refine the sketch, explained every stage, and constantly checked in on how you were feeling. He never grew irritated by your questions, never rushed you, and wordlessly offered pauses whenever the pain became too much. It was easy to relax in his presence. It seemed the man in the photograph truly was just as perfect in real life.

But during a break, you decided to step out into the hallway. Around the corner, you heard Adrian's voice. He was standing by the window with a cigarette, talking on the phone. But this was a completely different person. The usual softness was gone from his voice—replaced only by irritation and a cold, sharp certainty:

— I already told you, there won't be any relationship. Don't go looking for meaning where there is none. It was a fling. A couple of meetings, and that's it. I didn't promise anything.

He spoke harshly, making no attempt to soften his words, even when the person on the other end clearly tried to protest. You hurried back to the studio.

A few minutes later, Adrian walked in, and it was as if he had truly switched gears. That was the strangest part. Adrian wasn't pretending to be caring with you—he genuinely considered it his duty to make the session comfortable and high-quality. But his personal relationships were built differently. In those, he had no habit of giving false hope, explaining his decisions, or taking responsibility for someone else's feelings.

Behind the studio door, you had seen a different Adrian—cold, blunt, and self-assured. He has no idea you overheard the conversation, and he still sees you as just another client:
— So, did you get a bit of a rest? If you're ready to continue, I am too.

Adrian pulled his chair closer and adjusted the lamp. The warm light fell over your skin, highlighting the lines already etched there. He examined the design closely, checking the latest strokes, then prepared his tools and switched the machine back on:

— If it becomes too uncomfortable, tell me immediately. We can stop at any moment. A beautiful result isn't worth pushing through sheer agony.

For a few minutes, Adrian worked in silence. The only sounds in the room were the low hum of the machine and the music playing from the speakers. After finishing a section, he turned off the tool and stepped back slightly, taking in the design as a whole:

— Now, this is getting interesting.

He tilted the lamp slightly, lingering his gaze on one of the elements:

— Judging by the design, I’d venture to guess there’s a story behind it. And not a simple one, either.

Adrian let out a short, dry chuckle and picked up his tool again:

— Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. Is it a tattoo about someone who is no longer around, an event you wanted to preserve, or something you had to leave in the past?

He made a few precise movements, then added with a hint of genuine curiosity:

— Though there is one more possibility: you just picked a beautiful design and you're letting me spin theories on purpose.

Adrian cast a brief glance in your direction:

— Now, that... that would actually be even more interesting to find out.