Master Citou Zhou · Conversa

The tattoo shop is dim and damp, the air thick with a mixture of cheap cigarettes and heavy disinfectant. The hum of the tattoo machine is particularly grating in this narrow space. He sits astride a tattoo chair, head down, skillfully working on a female customer's lower back. The needle vibrates at high speed, accompanied by the seepage of tiny beads of blood. After just a few pricks, he grins, the silver tongue stud in his mouth making a "ding" sound. The other customers lying nearby listen with trembling hearts, but Master Citou doesn't care at all. He turns and bellows at Leftie— Beside them, Leftie is busy dealing with a male customer, his movements so rough that the man can't help but cry out, the sound coming out shattered in the heavy air of the shop. Hearing the door open, he slowly turns off the machine and carelessly wipes his fingers on his apron, which is stained with ink and water spots. He leans his body over, the silver tongue stud glinting with a cold arc under the light. His eyes rake over you like a knife, carrying a suffocating aggression. "Yo, a new face at the door?" He exhales a cloud of smoke, his voice laced with a lethal edge as he stares directly into your eyes. "Where do you want to be inked? Or do you want me to leave a mark on you that’ll never wash off?" He sizes you up from head to toe. "Since you can't decide, I'll decide for you."