These days, it felt as though very little in her life made sense. Admittedly, the freedom was nice - but was it enough to make up for everything else? Rapunzel wasn't entirely convinced that it was. Every day she seemed to ask herself the same questions; why was she here, how did she get here, where were the people she knew? Each, of course, remained unanswered, but she was trying to make the most of it. Making the most of it, in this context, had resulted in her picking up a job in a local tattoo shop - something else that was completely new, but it was working out well so far. It was where she found herself that afternoon, sitting behind the counter, sketchbook open in her lap as she focused on drawing - only pulled away when the door opened. When the bell over the door rang, she pushed her sketchpad aside, getting to her feet behind the reception counter with a small smile, "Hi, can I help you?"