Well I wasn’t but hell yeah …I’m actually the least punk person so we’ll see how it goes
"Sorry, Miss French—"
"I told you, it’s Belle." Gold grimaced, unwilling to drop the last vestige of formality. The woman before him was wearing a t-shirt that looked like it had been subjected to a fistfight and then repaired with leather ties. It was tight, leaving her arms bare, and he kept getting distracted by the tattoos, mostly flowers and words, crawling over her arms. Her ragged jeans and boots didn’t exactly fill him with confidence either, and even her hair—short on one side and long on the other—was making him itchy with its lack of balance.
"Miss French, I can’t allow you to make that amount of noise in one of my buildings. Your neighbors have complained. There are noise codes."