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The machine starts buzzing, and Zander glances toward it. “I forgot how much less friendly that sounds when I’m in the chair.”

“You’ve survived it before. Give it a few minutes, and the adrenaline will do its job.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

I smile and turn my attention back to his arm, stretching the skin with my free hand before lowering the needle to begin.

The first line starts near the lower outside of his upper arm. I pull it slowly, following one of the longer curves in the tour route. Black ink replaces the thin purple guide as I work upward, a clean line appearing behind the machine a few inches at a time. When I reach the first turn, I stop, wipe away the excess ink, and check what I’ve done before continuing.

Already, the design looks different.

The stencil had been flat and temporary, a collection of purple marks sitting on top of his skin. The black gives it weight. The first curve follows the muscle of his arm exactly the way I pictured it when I drew it, disappearing slightly toward the back before coming forward again.

I add the next section, then another, building the route one piece at a time. Some stretches are long and smooth, while others change direction with small, deliberate bends marking the cities we decided mattered most. I leave tiny spaces between certain points instead of connecting everything, giving the design room to breathe and keeping it from turning into one continuous heavy line.

Zander is quiet for longer than I expect, watching whenever I stop to wipe his skin clean.

Finally, he asks, “How much of it can you see while you’re working?”

“Enough to know where I’m going. The rest I’m keeping in my head.”

“That sounds terrifying.”

“Probably better if you don’t think about it.”

I move higher on his arm, following the sweep toward his shoulder. With every section I finish, more of the purple stencil disappears, and the tattoo underneath starts becoming recognizable.

Zander has been surprisingly still, though talking seems to be how he gets through the discomfort.

“You really do this all day?”

“Some days.”

He shifts his head on the table without moving the arm I’m working on. “Your back has to hate you.”

“Usually by the end of the day. My hands aren’t always thrilled with me either.”

“What about your eyes?”

I glance up at him while I wipe the excess ink from his skin. “Are you interviewing me now?”

“I’m keeping myself occupied.”

I smile. “You could just admit it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt enough for me to give you that kind of satisfaction.”

“That’s disappointing.” I check the line I’ve just finished, then add, “For what it’s worth, you’re doing fine.”

“See? I knew I was good at this.”

I laugh under my breath and go back to work.

The next section takes more concentration. I finish the last of the longer route lines first, pulling each one slowly and stopping every few inches to wipe his skin clean and make sure the curve stays smooth. When I reach the center of the design, I set the machine down long enough to change my needle configuration.

Zander watches me. “What’s that for?”

“The sound wave. The lines are tighter through here, so I need more control.” I reposition his arm slightly and check the stencil again. “It might feel a little different.”