Permanent in Ink My breath hitches when the sleeve of his hoodie sags and gives me a clear look at his inked hand and wrist. Or what seems left of them. A snake’s black and blue, forked tongue licks his middle finger and wraps around it to his black painted nail. The head of the viper is tattooed over and around his hand, the mouth wide open, fangs curved over the knuckles of his index and ring finger. A rush of adrenaline tingles through my body. I lower my voice to a hushed, awed whisper. “What the hell is that?” He blinks and gives me a slight and confused shake of his head. Then his eyes light up. He unzips the hoodie. “The ink?” He…