"I don't know about any place named Oerba or Gran Pulse," Jax says. "And I don't have a brand like that. I just have my tattoos, not any tribal shit." He pauses for a moment and then gestures at her work, which is unlike any ink he's ever seen before.

"Not that what you're sporting is shit. It's well done. Might have to see your guy if I ever get out of this place."

Of course, that means finding out where the fuck Gran Pulse is.