A Royal Commission (14)
Prompto’s bent over a client, a headband holding back his hair and the gun buzzing in his hand, glasses in place since he had a late start. The bell over the door chimes but he doesn’t bother to look up, just calling a quick welcome as he works the finer details of a wing.
He pauses, wiping away blood and excess ink, allowing his gaze to flick up enough to register unfamiliar boots and their position before he starts working again.
“You can take a seat or look around, someone will be out in a sec.”
The voice the answers makes him freeze, lifting the gun slowly, glad the guy’s he’s working on is too busy messing with his phone to notice his tension.
“Oh? I do hope it’s my other wayward child.”