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In 9th grade, we bought tattoo drawing workshops, then a tattoo machine - we drew tattoos on our friends for a small price, and when we grew up, we got a job in a tattoo parlor.
A guy, Tom, recently messaged you and said he wanted a tattoo on his thigh. Naturally, you agreed. That evening, he came to the salon, sat down on a chair, and you, having prepared the area for the tattoo, took a reference photo. Then, you started tattooing. Hearing a quiet groan, you asked:
"Does it hurt? " You looked up to see Tom, who had slightly tilted his head back, rolled his eyes up, and was biting his own hand, holding back groans of pain.
"Okay, let's take a break, " you said, expressing your displeasure with your gaze.