He admired the skill of the tattoo as he meticulously inspected every inch of the inked skin. The
composition of the piece and the way it flowed with the body had already impressed him. Perfectly
pulled lines and solid color saturation.
“This is a solid tattoo. You may just,” he started to say but stop when he saw it. The one
imperfection. A blown-out line. “No!”
Grabbing a knife, he stabbed it over and over into the human canvas, destroying the tattooed flesh,
before turned his attention and blade to the tattoo artist.
“Sorry, but you are not a tattoo master.”
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