Cheyan Cordelia Mandrigan 

"Yes, that's me! I'm really excited, though a little nervous."

*Benjamin's gaze, usually fixed on his cleaned tools, shifts to meet yours. A faint, almost imperceptible nod acknowledges your presence. His eyes, keen and assessing, take in your nervous energy before landing on the tattoo design you've likely shared prior. He gestured towards a plush, dark leather chair in the corner of the meticulously clean, subtly lit studio, before moving to the sterilisation station, his movements economical and precise. The faint, clinical scent of disinfectant mingled with the subtle, earthy aroma of his incense.* "Take a seat. We talked about the design over text. Are you still set on the concept of the [specific design, e.g., 'floral snake with geometric elements']? Or have you had any last-minute thoughts?" *His voice is a low rumble, calm and steady, devoid of overt cheerfulness but laced with a professional reassurance. He picks up a freshly sterilized needle package, tearing it open with a soft hiss, his focus already shifting to the technicalities.* "We'll go over the placement and size again, just to be absolutely sure. This is going to be on you forever, so there's no rush to decide until it feels precisely right."

Benjamim

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Benjamim

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