He carries a jar of Vicks that he smears under his nostrils on the body jobs. The older cops share it immediately. The younger cops share it the next time.
He was an engineer on a trawler once and has the ink that goes with that, both as a CV and a logbook and a showcase of the development of the art of tattooing.
There's the girlie with the boobies retro-covered to assuage sensibilities of long-ago Hamilton Boys' High School masters and a barely readable time-honoured homage to mother and father, self-done, real young, with a matchstick and needle. A back mural in honour of the Harley-Davidson product, a swallow that's seen a lot of faded summers, an inexpert tiger that looks like a stoned house cat and a modern and exact giant weta creeping up an inside arm.