The jean covered leg that was shaking just inside of Yifan’s view was finally beginning to bother him. His phone had proved to be sufficient distraction, until the other leg joined in on the little jig. The slip-on Vans shoes tapped their toes against the wooden floor, before bouncing on the soles. The dance repeated like that every few seconds, and the disturbance to Yifan’s peace in the waiting room was finally shot down. “Can you cut that out?” he said, not raising his voice, but not keeping it to himself. When he looked up to find whoever was shaking so nervously across the way, he felt like his own conscious was ready to hit him over the head.

The other man was chewing his thumb nail like was the only thing he had to eat in years. His eyes were wide when they settled on Yifan, and it took him a moment to fully sit up in the chair and place both hands on his knees. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, dropping his head and leaving his eye contact with Yifan. “I'm nervous.”

“You're getting a tattoo?” Yifan asked, pocketing his cell phone and crossing his arms over his chest. He let his long legs stretch to their full length in front of him, and observed the other man stare at the appendages.

“Yes. I've never gotten one before.”

“Why did you come alone, then?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “None of my friends wanted to come with me,” Then he looked up at Yifan again, with his head tilted to his left, “Why are you alone?”

“After my first one, I've never come with anyone.”

The man leaned forward in his chair, his fingers tensing around his kneecaps. “How many do you have?”

Yifan let his eyes roll around for a second, his finger pointing to an occasional place on his body as he counted the ink. “This will be my tenth one.”

The man let out a “wah” at the fact, and his faint eyebrows shot up under his black bangs. Yifan just smiled in response to his reaction, then stood up and dropped down into the seat just one away from the other. He held out his right arm and twisted it around so that the man could see the cursive ink. “All of them are words like this, except I have a little wing on my arm, and a Borneo scorpion on the other,” he announced, patting over the spot where his shirt sleeve covered the bigger tattoo in question. “I’m getting a tiger on my forearm today.”

“That sounds so cool,” the other muttered, leaning over the empty chair between them to look at the photo Yifan had pulled up on his phone’s gallery. “It’s going to look really cool, too,” he decided for himself.

Yifan grinned and locked his phone, nodding his head as he looked over at the younger. From this short distance, compared to looking at him from across the waiting room, Yifan could see the little dent in his cheek. His eyes were a rather intense shade of brown from this distance, too. He coughed into his fist and turned his head away. “So, what are you getting?”

“A sheep,” he said simply.

“Where? What will it look like?”

The man took his own phone from his pocket and showed the dimmed screen to Yifan. The drawing looked less like a sheep, and more like a cloud with four sticks and a black dot to make a head and ears. Nevertheless, it was rather adorable. “It'll be on my inner wrist.”

“Small?”

“Very,” the other replied, his smile now making the dip beside his lips curve deeper. “People always call me a sheep.”

“Why is that?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “I guess I'm outwardly innocent. I seem stupid or naïve, too. And sheep are always so soft and related to being innocent and pure, so I guess that's why I got the nickname.”

“You sound like you don't really like it,” Yifan commented, resting his chin on his hand, leaning his elbow on the metal arm of the chair.

“It’s fine with me, to be honest. I think sheep are cute. They're one of my favorite animals.”

“What's your favorite?”

“Rabbits,” the other smiled, and Yifan swore, had they been outside, he would have been blinded by the sun reflecting off those pearly whites.

“I think that nickname really does suit you, then. Such a cute little animal,” Yifan laughed, and he watched the miniscule pout on the other’s drift away upon hearing the sound.

“Well what about you, huh? What animal do people use to describe you?”

Yifan shrugged his shoulders and sunk back against the chair. “No one has ever compared me to an animal.”

“Really?” the other looked at him incredulously, a thin eyebrow raised. “Not even a giraffe?”

“Don't use my height against me. I was cursed with these legs.”

“A curse from the heavens? Because legs like that are pretty sought after.”

Yifan was about to refuse the statement, when one of the few tattoo artists working turned around the corner. “Hey, Yixing, we're ready to take you back now.”

The man, Yixing, as Yifan suddenly realized was his name, looked back at the taller with his bottom lip between his teeth. “I guess it's time for me.”

Yifan stood up at the same time Yixing did, and shoved his hands into his front pockets. “Can I come back with him? Like, as moral support?” he asked the artist, who shrugged and nodded his head before leading Yixing to the correct workstation.

“If you get another tattoo,” Yifan said from behind him, right into Yixing’s ear, “Call me so I can give you all the support you need, again.”

Yixing turned and gave him a dimpled smile before he sat down, and Yifan felt like a sheep was too perfect of an animal.