[He gives a solemn shake of his head as if the lack of bad puns is a tragedy of humanity. In just a second though, he's back to grinning.]

Sure! I don't have as many as I'd like, but I've got some bigger ones.

[He shrugs out of his suit jacket and, now that he's free, he wonders why he hadn't peeled it off before. He's down to that V-cut shirt and some bare arms. Or, would-be bare. He's got a full sleeve done on one side, a graveyard using negative space to display the shape of graves upon his forearm. Dark trees reach up into a darker sky, the middle of his arm a black spot save for a hanging lantern illuminating one small portion. The dark goes through his upper arm where it breaks at the jawline of a skull, its maw parted for the petals that spill from its teeth and the celosia that spear up through the mouth and eyes. It goes to his shoulder and so still winds up a little cut off by the t-shirt sleeves. Same goes for the other arm where a stitched heart sits on his shoulder.]

I've got a bit of a memorial on my back but that's nothing fancy to look at. Hoping to get the other arm filled out one day.