This had been roughly what she had expected, so she luckily had enough money with her. Glad about that fact, she took her purse out of her bag and took out the one hundred and fifty. She really should remember asking prices first, when went somewhere she hadn't been yet. Alice knew she was lucky she had not been somewhere overly expensive here. After a moment of thinking, she took out ten dollars more, handing everything over to him. “Well, I was here a bit more than an hour.” she simply said with a smile.
It was one of the rules she lived by. Be friendly and fair, then the same might come back to you. More often than not, neither friendliness nor kindness was rewarded, but she never let herself be influenced by that.
“Is there anything else that needs to be done?” she asked. Alice really had no clue. Maybe there was something she had to sign. Or maybe there was something about the tattoo he hadn't explained yet. In the end, better asking than forgetting something. Or being rude by just leaving.
One Hour Tattoo
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
"Thanks," Jesse said, taking the money and opening the antique cash register to slide it inside. He wouldn't say no to a tip.
From beneath the counter Jesse retrieved a clipboard, a form which he pushed across the top of the counter toward Alice. There wasn't much on the form -- just a simple agreement which he encouraged her to read. It said that the studio was clean and met a normal person's standard of hygiene, and that the artist followed through with the request. More important, it said that they were happy with the work. Basically, the form requested that she sign off on the tattoo, and that she wasn't going to come back demanding her money back.
"Just to sign that," he said. "If you're happy with the work," he said. Rarely did have any issues with anyone signing the form. Sometimes he did have issues with people coming back -- but it was normally their own damned fault. He always had the pleasure of shoving the form under their noses, and if they continued to complain, he threatened to carve the tattoo off with a red-hot blade. That usually shut them up.
From beneath the counter Jesse retrieved a clipboard, a form which he pushed across the top of the counter toward Alice. There wasn't much on the form -- just a simple agreement which he encouraged her to read. It said that the studio was clean and met a normal person's standard of hygiene, and that the artist followed through with the request. More important, it said that they were happy with the work. Basically, the form requested that she sign off on the tattoo, and that she wasn't going to come back demanding her money back.
"Just to sign that," he said. "If you're happy with the work," he said. Rarely did have any issues with anyone signing the form. Sometimes he did have issues with people coming back -- but it was normally their own damned fault. He always had the pleasure of shoving the form under their noses, and if they continued to complain, he threatened to carve the tattoo off with a red-hot blade. That usually shut them up.
FIRE and BLOOD
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
Alice scanned the form quick, but carefully. She never signed anything without reading it. After all, not all devils contracts were signed with blood. One thing signed without reading may cause big trouble. Well, Alice may also simply be paranoid, but better a bit paranoid than too naïve.
The form was something she could have expected. Of course the owner of a tattoo parlour would need to have his customers signing something like that. Tattoos especially were something closely tied with health, as a bad performed tattoo or bad hygiene standards could cause a person to get seriously ill. And since Alice was happy with the tattoo and had no problems with the place, she was fine with signing it. “Of course I am.” she replied to his words, setting her signature under the form.
“If I ever want another tattoo, I'll definitely come here again.” she said with another smile. After that, she waited another moment, if he had anything else to say. Otherwise she'd leave, calling: “Have a nice evening!” over to Jesse while exiting.
The form was something she could have expected. Of course the owner of a tattoo parlour would need to have his customers signing something like that. Tattoos especially were something closely tied with health, as a bad performed tattoo or bad hygiene standards could cause a person to get seriously ill. And since Alice was happy with the tattoo and had no problems with the place, she was fine with signing it. “Of course I am.” she replied to his words, setting her signature under the form.
“If I ever want another tattoo, I'll definitely come here again.” she said with another smile. After that, she waited another moment, if he had anything else to say. Otherwise she'd leave, calling: “Have a nice evening!” over to Jesse while exiting.
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
These streets made her nervous.
Last time she was here she nearly died. The only reason she chose to venture down this road, in the dark, was because of the person that saved her. She constantly fretted over a way to show her gratitude. She practiced different things to say to him, but she barely knew the man nor whether he frequented this place at all. Maybe he was there by happenstance that night, she did not know. Still she practiced...
"Thank you.. for.. not killing me yet.. I mean...no..for saving me.. and you're very nice and.." ..Without making much progress.
Narla is dressed in conservative clothing, mainly because the weather is cooler than she would prefer and because she did not want to stick out more than necessary. She wore a dark brown hoodie, and a pair of grey 'jeggings' in case she had to run again. Her good pair of jeans were covered in blood and scraped up from her falls during the attack.
Her hands grip one other in a hug of reassurance that stayed between only them as she approaches the door to Serpentine. They never part, because much to her luck she could slip into the building as someone else left. Her earthen eyes scan the faces of the night crowd and the general setup of the bar. She didn't see the man at first, but Narla figured she could ask.. Then she realized asking implied talking.. to a person.
The waif freezes at the doorway.
Last time she was here she nearly died. The only reason she chose to venture down this road, in the dark, was because of the person that saved her. She constantly fretted over a way to show her gratitude. She practiced different things to say to him, but she barely knew the man nor whether he frequented this place at all. Maybe he was there by happenstance that night, she did not know. Still she practiced...
"Thank you.. for.. not killing me yet.. I mean...no..for saving me.. and you're very nice and.." ..Without making much progress.
Narla is dressed in conservative clothing, mainly because the weather is cooler than she would prefer and because she did not want to stick out more than necessary. She wore a dark brown hoodie, and a pair of grey 'jeggings' in case she had to run again. Her good pair of jeans were covered in blood and scraped up from her falls during the attack.
Her hands grip one other in a hug of reassurance that stayed between only them as she approaches the door to Serpentine. They never part, because much to her luck she could slip into the building as someone else left. Her earthen eyes scan the faces of the night crowd and the general setup of the bar. She didn't see the man at first, but Narla figured she could ask.. Then she realized asking implied talking.. to a person.
The waif freezes at the doorway.
(ooc note: Narla has Sweet Blood and Intense Medium. The latter typically makes her see 'weird things' and perceive more people being present in any given place than there actually are. Please feel free to 'contradict' her observations.)
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
Another night, another bout of wandering. Ever since she sired Mario, the darkness had grown in her. The shadows seemed to crowd her like the visions. Icy blue eyes closed for a moment as she continued to walk down the street, she didn't really pay attention to anything or anyone. She just, walked, silent, in her own world. She had contemplated putting herself into the shadow realm but that would only last twenty-four hours. So she walked, wandered, wilted the way the plants did when she passed.
There was one thing that helped her. Pain. Pain always centered her. Instead of cutting she chose to feel pain at the hands of another, and there was only one person she trusted to hurt her so good. Jesse. He wasn't the one that brought her into this life, but she saw him as her sire, trusted him as her sire, followed him as her sire. She didn't really have a design in mind this time, but she knew Jesse, knew he would come up with something she loved. Then again, he could just dot her and she would probably like it. She knew he wouldn't, he was an artist, and she carried a good portion of his art on her skin.
She was always a willing canvas.
Ursa was still in that odd state, here but not. Conscious of the fact that she was stepping into the Serpintine, but blind in a manner of speaking, to the waif in the doorway. That is, until she ran into her, Ursula turned to the woman and her blue eyes shifted into a wolven gold. "Sorry, probably not a good idea to stand there though." She said in a terce tone, before continuing on. It was things like this that Ursa chose to wear things like her black leather jacket and red and black leather gloves. So should she literally run into someone, her curse wouldn't trigger and she wouldn't make some poor fool sick as a dog. As it was just her presence made just about any plant wilt and die.
Her outfit was always completed with her bright red leather pants and her Louboutin pumps. Pumps that clicked as she walked across the wood floors towards the tattoo area. If Jesse was here, he'd be with a tattoo gun in hand... or a paintball gun. She hoped it was the former not the latter.
There was one thing that helped her. Pain. Pain always centered her. Instead of cutting she chose to feel pain at the hands of another, and there was only one person she trusted to hurt her so good. Jesse. He wasn't the one that brought her into this life, but she saw him as her sire, trusted him as her sire, followed him as her sire. She didn't really have a design in mind this time, but she knew Jesse, knew he would come up with something she loved. Then again, he could just dot her and she would probably like it. She knew he wouldn't, he was an artist, and she carried a good portion of his art on her skin.
She was always a willing canvas.
Ursa was still in that odd state, here but not. Conscious of the fact that she was stepping into the Serpintine, but blind in a manner of speaking, to the waif in the doorway. That is, until she ran into her, Ursula turned to the woman and her blue eyes shifted into a wolven gold. "Sorry, probably not a good idea to stand there though." She said in a terce tone, before continuing on. It was things like this that Ursa chose to wear things like her black leather jacket and red and black leather gloves. So should she literally run into someone, her curse wouldn't trigger and she wouldn't make some poor fool sick as a dog. As it was just her presence made just about any plant wilt and die.
Her outfit was always completed with her bright red leather pants and her Louboutin pumps. Pumps that clicked as she walked across the wood floors towards the tattoo area. If Jesse was here, he'd be with a tattoo gun in hand... or a paintball gun. She hoped it was the former not the latter.
Jesse's Girl
•~Fforde Forever~•
Come little human, I'll take thee away, into a land of your horrors.
Banner by Sig Queen Claire
•~Fforde Forever~•
Come little human, I'll take thee away, into a land of your horrors.
Banner by Sig Queen Claire
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Re: One Hour Tattoo
Narla jolts from the unexpected body smacking into her back and nearly falls over if it had not been for a couple corrective steps. Glancing back over her shoulder, she offers an apologetic look to the woman she perceived as annoyed, capturing her face for memory as best she could, "Uh... oh..I'm sorry.." then scurried away from the door towards the bar.
The atmosphere of the building was surprisingly warm and welcoming, certainly nothing she saw before. A bar and a tattoo parlor separated by glass. Narla got mental image of this being a prime spot for gangsters to hang out. Tattoos and booze. A fascinating thought.. but that meant she had to be very careful or someone might put her in an unwanted situation.
For the time being, Narla decided to perch herself on a chair by the bar, and take in all the painted people around her. Maybe one of them will be him, she just had to be careful not to anger anyone else like the woman she blocked at the door. Narla casts a wary glance at that very same woman in case she still happens to be perturbed.
The atmosphere of the building was surprisingly warm and welcoming, certainly nothing she saw before. A bar and a tattoo parlor separated by glass. Narla got mental image of this being a prime spot for gangsters to hang out. Tattoos and booze. A fascinating thought.. but that meant she had to be very careful or someone might put her in an unwanted situation.
For the time being, Narla decided to perch herself on a chair by the bar, and take in all the painted people around her. Maybe one of them will be him, she just had to be careful not to anger anyone else like the woman she blocked at the door. Narla casts a wary glance at that very same woman in case she still happens to be perturbed.
(ooc note: Narla has Sweet Blood and Intense Medium. The latter typically makes her see 'weird things' and perceive more people being present in any given place than there actually are. Please feel free to 'contradict' her observations.)