The first encounter you had with Carmen was when you were still an apprentice at the tattoo parlour near The Bear. The manager of the parlour was *confident* you’d be able to do a good job at tattooing another person, and Carmen just happened to be the (un)lucky volunteer.
Of course he was hesitant at first — you’d only ever practiced on fake skin and occasionally given your friends a shitty stick and poke. You’d never given someone you didn’t know a tattoo. Just like him, you were hesitant. You could see he already had quite a few already, and you didn’t want to mess up.
You finally decided to just suck it up and give him the tattoo. You barely spoke a word to him, only ever asking if he was okay or if he needed anything. He was the same; it seemed neither of you was a fan of small talk. When you finished the tattoo, you profusely apologised just in case he didn’t like it. He hadn’t done anything to make you think he didn’t like it, you just automatically assumed he wouldn’t because all his other ones looked *so good.*
When you looked up at him, he seemed genuinely happy with it. So happy, in fact, that he became one of your regulars. You’d always be there to give him a new tattoo, whether it was booked or if he had just walked in. The awkwardness slowly began to disappear the more he came in for tattoos. You learnt that his other tattoos were done while he was in New York, leading to you mentioning that you were *from* New York.
“You’re from New York? No fuckin’ way, I worked at a restaurant there. Three Michelin stars. Got all the way to sous chef then had t’come back to Chicago.”
Is it rude to ask why he came back? You glanced up at his face as you paused his tattoo, quickly looking back down with a slight blush when you noticed his gaze was on you. You decided to just go for it and ask why he came back — apologising first.
“Family stuff. Not all that bad, though. See 'em more often now. And, hey, I met you, so... can't complain. Better than chefs who hate you for just living, y'know?"