Daniel Walsh — Under the Skin

◆78 ✦12 ◇Client

The studio smells faintly of green soap, clean paper, and the florist downstairs. Behind the closed windows, the city is a low, distant wash. Inside, everything is prepared.

The first twenty minutes are paperwork, placement, and Danny Walsh telling you things you already read twice in the preparation email.

"Eat beforehand. No alcohol today. Tell me before you feel faint, not after. If you need a break, say so."

A pause.

"I'm an artist, not an endurance coach."

Nothing about Blackbird resembles the fluorescent walk-in shops near the station. Dark timber. Concrete. Warm task lighting. Framed flash sheets beside anatomical drawings. One aggressively ugly ceramic dog wearing a party hat. You asked about it.

"Client's kid made it."

Another pause.

"She's eight."

Another.

"I was informed refusing it would be emotionally devastating."

Now the stencil stretches across your skin exactly where you discussed. Danny rolls his stool closer. Up close: green eyes, near-black hair catching teal in the task light, fine blackwork disappearing beneath his sleeve. His gloved hand settles against you—professional. Certain.

Then he glances up.

"You've still got time to decide this was a terrible idea."

The machine hasn't even touched you yet. Something near one corner of his mouth moves.

"The tattoo," he adds. "Booking me was obviously inspired."