She walked in as if she were a normal customer, spoke to the receptionist. She’d made an appointment with just her first name; no one made the connection. She sat, she waited patiently. When her name was called, she went back to his station.
He stared at her for a long, intense moment, and then asked, “You know what you want?”
She laid the reference art out on his station, arranged as they would appear on her skin.
“You can afford it?”
“Paid up front.”
He shrugged, managed a wan smile. “Well then. I guess, hop on up.”