He sighs. The dubious "jig" is up. He stops with his fussing and pushes a sleeve up. He reveals a colorful collage of images, wrapped around and interlocked all around his arm but for one waving black stripe that works it's way down. The images don't seem to stop where his sleeve does.

"They're tattoos. And not supposed to be there. The world I came from gave them to me. And no, far as I am aware, I was not in a gang." But he still doesn't really know.