The tattoo parlor - The Green Rose - was one of the better ones in the Low District, not so far down in the slums that it got dangerous costumers, but still not good enough to be in the richer parts of the city, not good enough that anyone from the High District would visit on a whim. It was relatively well-known, but didn't receive too heavy of traffic. It was perfect - for now - for someone like Anrar, but at the moment that wasn't what his mind was on as he washed his hands, readying for another costumer. He hissed slightly as the water turned cold and shut the faucet off immediately, drying his hands and blowing a stray strand of blond hair away from his face. It had escaped confinement, but he couldn't use his hands to move it as he took his seat and slipped on gloves. Dark green eyes looked to the honey-blond, green-eyed woman who had requested him. It took him but a fraction of a second to realize he knew her features. From her dreadlocks to her light skin, various piercings and bright if tough attitude. Winifred. He worked with her. Anrar - though, everyone here knew him as Alex, even the woman before him - raised a brow, head tilting just slightly in a silent question he did not ask - mainly why she'd wanted him when there were others better at the trade - before he turned his piercing eyes away and he started to open the packaging for the needles and other objects he would need, everything sterile. "What design do you want?" Okay, so he wasn't the most eloquent of people, but Fred would already know that.