“Come in!” Came the accented call that marked it as Zac, not his apparent Roommate, a Moon hunter called Emelina if the scrap of paper on the door was to be believed.
There were papers spread across the desk of various torso sketches and mixes of tribal designs and hints of colors in spots on some, for others white ink had been traced over brown papers to make coffee and cream style pictures.
“Oh hey!” he said realizing he’d met you before “How’d your ink turn out? You looking for more?”