[That gets an old-salt raise of the eyebrow. Maybe even a hint of a smile as he works the alcohol pad across her arm.]

A few months back I had a mother of three come in for a huge flaming skull between her shoulder blades. You don't fit the stereotype - but you're not the first, you won't be the last, and you're not the most extreme.

[The alcohol pad gets tossed. There's a crinkling of wrapping as he takes the disposable razor out of its packaging, takes the plastic cap off, and starts shaving her from the bicep to where her deltoid starts.]

Name's Hesher, by the way, Master Sergeant Hesher. Seen you around the intel shop a time or two.