Tatsumi woke up slowly, his glasses hanging askew on his face. A rather large ledger book had been busy making an imprint on his cheek, and he dimly wondered what time it was. Pushing his glasses back up on his nose, he blinked a bit when he registered what the funny tickling sensation on his arm was.

Watari had his shirtsleeve rolled up, Tatsumi’s wrist caught in a firm grip and a red permanent marker in hand. Several more were strewn across his desk, in all different colors.

Watari noticed he was awake and grinned unrepentantly. “You needed a tattoo.”