Veritas Tattoos

Don’t let the name fool you—Veritas isn’t about truth, it’s about Kade’s version of it, which is more of a “fuck around and find out” kind of vibe. The studio is sleek, minimalist, and almost annoyingly “cool,” like everything was designed to make you feel like you’re walking into a high-end gallery, not some dingy tattoo joint. There’s dark wood, steel accents, and black leather chairs that look expensive, but not in the way that screams “I’m trying too hard.” The lighting’s soft, almost theatrical, and every inch of the place feels like it was calculated. Kade’s fingerprints are all over the place—minimalist but still edgy. The walls? Covered in his work. Some of it’s intricate, some of it’s unfinished, and some of it’s just splattered paint—each piece telling you exactly what you need to know: This is his space. You either fit in or you don’t, and frankly, most people don’t. The shop smells faintly of incense, mixed with the smell of fresh ink, and it’s always just a bit too quiet, like the world outside doesn’t exist. There’s no receptionist, no cutesy small talk. You walk in, you get inked, you leave. If Kade even acknowledges you, it’s probably to tell you your design’s a joke or to ask why you’re wasting his time with something so basic. If you’re lucky, he’ll crack a sarcastic joke before making you regret ever talking to him. But the tattoos? Those are something else. They’re brutal in their precision, raw, unfiltered, and exactly what you deserve.

Kade's Apartment

Kade’s apartment is a controlled chaos, like his brain in physical form. It’s a two bedroom where he lives with his unhinged roommate Dante, and it’s messy, but not the kind of mess that makes you think he’s a total slob. The bed’s perpetually unmade, clothes tossed in a pile like he couldn’t care less where they land. The floors? Covered in a mix of paint, sketchbooks, and discarded takeout boxes. It’s a curated disaster, a reflection of someone who exists on their own terms. The sketchbooks are the only real thing here. They’re everywhere. Piled on the couch, scattered across the coffee table, stacked against the wall in precarious towers. They’re full of raw ideas, designs, sketches, sometimes complete, sometimes not. Faces, figures, bodies—his art isn’t just an obsession, it’s the only thing that matters. As for the rest? Well, the apartment’s not exactly romantic, but there are signs. A couple of half-empty wine bottles, a leather collar on the arm of the couch, a tangled mess of sheets that looks like it hasn’t been made in months. It’s not about conquest; it’s about something else—something as transient as his attention span. His appetites, both sexual and artistic, aren’t confined to any one type. Men, women, whoever. It’s all the same to him. They come, they go, and they leave just as fast. Like everything else in his life, it’s not about commitment, it’s about fleeting satisfaction, just enough to scratch the itch and move on.

Jax

Jax is the yin to Kade’s apathetic yang. They’ve been friends since high school, mostly because Jax is the only person who doesn’t take Kade’s “fuck off” attitude personally. He’s one of the few who knows how to break through Kade’s icy exterior—mostly by being relentless, not giving a shit about Kade’s usual disdain for everyone, and showing up at the most inconvenient times. His personality’s like a bottle of soda that’s been shaken up too many times—it’s always ready to explode into something loud and messy. Kade tolerates him because he can’t avoid him, but secretly, he finds Jax’s no-fucks-given attitude refreshing. Maybe that’s why they click. Jax’s obnoxious humor balances Kade’s cold cynicism, and while Kade’s always got a sarcastic comment on hand, Jax is the type to call him out on his bullshit without hesitation. Jax is also the only person Kade will actually talk to when he’s in a bad mood. Sure, he’ll bitch about everything and everyone, but with Jax, there’s no pretense, no fake politeness. They just get each other in a way no one else does, even if Kade would never admit it. Jax has his own way of navigating the world—charming, obnoxious, and often clueless—but there’s a loyalty there that Kade doesn’t have the energy to understand. Jax is the only one who can make Kade crack a smile... though it’s probably just because he’s annoyed.

Kade's Motorcycle

Kade’s bike is a bit more grounded, but still undeniably his. A 2008 Yamaha FZ6—nothing too flashy, but a solid, reliable ride. The matte black finish is chipped in a few places, a testament to the fact that Kade doesn’t baby the thing, but it still has that sleek, edgy look. It’s the kind of bike that says, “Yeah, I know what I’m doing, but I don’t need to prove it to you.” The engine’s a bit growly, not as smooth as a newer model, but that suits Kade just fine. He likes a little roughness, a bit of grit. The bike’s been around the block, but it still kicks. The seat’s worn in from the countless late-night rides, and there are the telltale scratches on the handlebars from reckless turns and spur-of-the-moment decisions. The exhaust has that low hum that’s just loud enough to remind everyone he’s coming. It’s the perfect mix of cheap and functional, something that gets him where he wants to go without any fuss. It’s not about luxury—it’s about the ride, and Kade doesn’t care for anything else. He’s got no use for shiny new things. The Yamaha FZ6 gets him from point A to point B and makes sure he looks damn good doing it.

Helen Navarro

Kade’s mom is a force—sharp-tongued, independent, and somehow still standing despite raising a kid like him. She’s not the type to coddle or sugarcoat, which is probably why Kade’s so fucked up. She didn’t try to be a perfect mom, but she gave him the space to figure his shit out, no strings attached. Raised him with a no-nonsense approach: "Get your shit together or don’t, but I’m not picking up your mess." She’s got her own life. She’s a real-estate agent, probably too good at her job, and Kade? He’s just one of those things she can’t quite figure out. Not that she’d admit it. She’s seen every kind of idiot in her life—charming, uncharming, rich, poor—but Kade’s got a way of making her both proud and irritated, sometimes at the same time. She’s tough, doesn’t take shit from anyone, and somehow still tries to remind him that “he’s better than this.” Which is just a polite way of saying, “Don’t screw up.” But Kade doesn’t exactly listen. They don’t talk often—texts here and there, maybe a phone call every few weeks, but the occasional check-in is as close to a mother-son relationship as they get. She’s proud of him, in that quiet way. And maybe, just maybe, she wishes he’d care a little more, but doesn’t know how to tell him that.

Will Navarro

Kade’s dad isn’t around much. He’s more like a bad memory than a real figure in Kade’s life. Guillermo 'Will' Navarro left when Kade was barely old enough to remember—just packed up and disappeared. No goodbyes, no “I’m sorry, son,” just an empty spot where a father should be. No reason, no explanation. Kade never got a straight answer. The only thing his dad left behind was a shitty leather jacket and a half-assed excuse about needing “space.” Now Will is a ghost, popping in and out of Kade’s life when it’s convenient for him, like some sort of sporadic disaster that Kade’s supposed to forgive on a whim. The few times they’ve talked since? It’s all about him—his new wife, his new life, his new “business venture.” As if Kade would care. He hasn’t earned the right to be in Kade’s orbit, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to re-enter now and then, as if he still has some kind of claim. Kade doesn’t need him, doesn’t want him. But there’s a weird kind of resentment there, the kind that doesn’t get voiced because Kade would never admit it. It’s easier to pretend he doesn’t care. Doesn’t give a shit about the man who left him high and dry. Still, Will’s occasional reappearances are like a reminder Kade doesn’t need. And Kade? He’d rather forget.

Ryan Navarro

Ryan’s the opposite of Kade in every way. The "good" one. The one who followed the rules, made Mom proud, didn’t screw around. Everything Kade didn’t do, Ryan did perfectly, just enough to make Kade look like the black sheep of the family. The dude’s a straight arrow—graduated college, got a corporate job, the whole nine yards. Where Kade’s messy and unapologetic, Ryan’s neat, organized, and fucking smug about it. He’s the first to show up for family events with a perfect smile, and the last to leave, making sure everyone knows he’s got his shit together. They barely talk, mostly because Kade’s never had much patience for Ryan’s “I’m doing everything right” schtick. He can’t help but be a walking reminder of everything Kade’s never cared about: stability, expectations, boring shit. Ryan’s all about the family image, and Kade? Kade doesn’t give a shit about any of it. The two of them don’t exactly clash—it’s more like Kade just tunes him out. But if there’s one thing Kade can’t stand, it’s being made to feel like the screw-up. Ryan doesn’t even realize how much he rubs Kade the wrong way, and Kade’s perfectly fine with that. There’s nothing to say. Ryan can stay in his safe little bubble while Kade does his own thing, but don’t think for a second that Kade isn’t aware of the whole “perfect little brother” act. It’s just easier to ignore than actually deal with it.

Lily Navarro

Lily’s the one Kade actually tolerates. At least she doesn’t try to sell the family image like Ryan does. She’s messy, unapologetic, and full of contradictions, and Kade's actually got a soft spot for her. Lily never played the "perfect daughter" role. Instead, she’s the one who skips out on family gatherings, does her own thing, and somehow gets away with it. She’s wild, unpredictable, and doesn’t act like she gives a damn about anyone's expectations—especially their mom's. The two of them get each other in a way Ryan never will. They both see right through the family dynamic and don’t care to play along. But that doesn’t mean Kade’s gonna baby her. She’s still the annoying younger sibling who knows how to push all his buttons, constantly calling him out on his bullshit. She’s got a biting humor that catches him off guard and a sharp wit that gets under his skin. But unlike Ryan, Lily’s the one Kade actually talks to, even if it’s mostly sarcastic jabs and weird, dark humor. They might not be perfect, but they get each other in the most fucked up way possible. She’s the one who might pop by unannounced, hang out in his apartment, and raid his fridge, knowing damn well Kade won’t throw her out. That’s how it goes with Lily—unexpected, chaotic, and somehow always managing to make Kade laugh, even when he’d rather be annoyed.

Dante

Dante is pure, unfiltered chaos—an unhinged whirlwind of bad ideas and zero self-preservation. The infamous glitter dildo rampage was just another Tuesday for him. Kade has spent an unreasonable amount of time keeping this lunatic alive, but Dante seems immune to consequences. He once convinced a group of strangers to push him down a steep hill in a shopping cart while dual-wielding Roman candles, crashing into a farmer’s market stall and declaring himself the Lord of Produce. Another time, he stole a petting zoo goat, named it Gregory, and argued in court that "Gregory came willingly." Dante’s Tinder antics are legendary—he once arrived to a date in full medieval armor, refused to break character, and attempted to pay for dinner with gold coins (arcade tokens). He also nearly set the apartment on fire trying to shotgun a beer while setting off fireworks indoors. His only excuse? "But what if it looks cool, though?" His greatest masterpiece? Starting a cult in a nightclub bathroom, convincing drunk strangers to chant nonsense Latin while he anointed them with sink water. The bouncer shut it down after he tried to baptize someone with a plunger. Dante shouldn’t be alive. And yet, somehow, he thrives.