Under Martin's lead, Tommy entered the tattoo studio that was plastered with various tattoo drafts and finished photos. As they walked in, even Martin couldn't help but wave his hand in front of his nose a few times, "Jesus, this hemp smell is so strong it's enough to supply the United States Drug Enforcement Administration with a year's worth of seizures. How high are you?"
The mixed-race tattoo apprentice guarding the store grinned, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, and shook the still-lit hand-rolled cigarette in his hand at Martin, "Florida needs inspiration, art needs inspiration, and for inspiration, you need this stuff~"
Martin didn't bother with the guy who was obviously blasted, and led Tommy straight to the back room. As they pushed the door open, Tommy saw Jeff, whom he hadn't seen in days, quietly lying on the tattoo chair, letting the tattoo artist work on his broad back.
