One Hour Tattoo

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse laughed, though it was low and still. The man was a professional, and he would not allow his amusement to cause any kind of inconsistency in the art he was etching into the skin.

"I fear that's a loaded question," Jesse answered, his voice a cool husk. There was not either one or the other. He could have said that he preferred his humanity because he'd been happier, then. He had his own shop - in that aspect, he'd come full circle - but he'd had no other true connections. Distance had been his friends; he'd had mentors in the past, but any trusting relationships he'd formed had been fleeting. Ships in the night. They hadn't been meaningless, but they hadn't chained him.

In immortality, he'd discovered what love was, and what it meant to have a broken heart. He'd found his voice. He'd learned so much - and it wasn't all good. But would he give it up? Going back, would have done anything different? A different sire, maybe - though he did find himself curious about Phoenix, these days. Where was she? Was she even still around? But no, he wouldn't take it back. This was a gift. The power...

"I'm leaning toward freedom," he said. Though he didn't explain his answer.

[Kaspar]

A loaded question? He was probably right, answering either way had to be some form of admission, some glimpse and glimmer of insight into a clearly quiet man, someone who didn't feel the need to show much of himself to those he didn't know. Perhaps didn't want to. That didn't phase Kaspar overly, he'd already sort of slipped the guy into the too hard basket, categorised him under "professional interactions" rather than future buddy. It was one thing he'd found interesting about the male vampires he'd met, few were easy to just be friends with, to just hang out and have a drink with. The fact that most of them couldn't actually drink wasn't exactly helpful either.

"Then I hope you enjoy it, your freedom." He allowed himself to go silent then, eyes shut, the low humming starting up and that was how he remained, tuned out for a few minutes, absorbed in his own pointless thoughts until a certain memory reared it's ugly head, a reminder from their previous conversation about crazy redheads. "Ford... No... Fforde? Jesse Fforde?" One blue peeked open, narrowing on the man. "Ah, your poor ********, Rot is connected to you."

[Jesse Fforde]

The buzzing stopped as soon as Jesse's last name was uttered. Repeated. Jesse recalled that he hadn't actually given his last name; as he straightened, eyes narrowed on the stranger in his chair, he knew there was nothing around them that would give it away. The certificates with his name on were framed, and on the wall at the front counter. Kaspar could have seen it there; it could have just clicked. Jesse didn't know whether to be amused or suspicious. Given the climate, lately, he was leaning toward the latter.

"Rot?" he asked. A mutual acquaintance, then. A redhead, Kaspar had said. Poor ********, he'd said. Jesse's mind immediately jumped to the redhead that had caused him the most grief. "You know Phoenix? I didn't know she was still around..." he said. Even after they'd parted, Jesse had still heard about Phoenix. Remnants of her had clung to the city, to the familiar places, haunting. God, how he hated her. And yet, why was there that strange urge to see her?

He sat, tattoo machine stilled in his hand, waiting for the explanation. His entire career, Jesse had been mute while tattooing. It was something he hadn't quite got the hang of, yet - chit-chat while working.

[Kaspar]

The stopping of the machine had Kaspar frowning, looking at Jesse expectantly as if to ask what gives. The man's reaction was surprising, he looked like he was trying to decide whether to be amused or put out by it, that alone confirmed Kaspar's suspicious that this Jesse Fforde. He figured there weren't too many vampires out there named Jesse, it was a stab in the dark but not an entirely uneducated one.

"Rot," He spoke, keeping a cautious eye on Jesse, feeling almost guilty for not being more specific when he began to speak of someone named Phoenix, no it was not that name she'd given, it was must be a different person. "It means red in German, Red like her hair. An unnatural colour, surely, bright and too fake. I don't mean Phoenix, i've not had the pleasure, but she did give some other bird name this one. She said that you were her sire's sire, she was being sassy about getting in trouble from you if she tried to start fights with me. Oh, she tried, I just wasn't interested in giving her what she wanted. Raven? I believe."

In fact he was quite certain that was her name, "No offense, but that is one woman I could go without running into too often." He wrinkled his nose in distaste, leaning over to get a look at the work Jesse was doing, nodding his approval before slumping back.

[Jesse Fforde]

Red hair. Yes, he'd already complained about redheads. Phoenix was one of them, though Jesse thought that her hair was naturally that way. Maybe he was wrong. When Kaspar finally outed the name, Jesse rolled his eyes and returned to his work - after having changed the needles over and arranging the new ink. It was time to colour, and shade.

"Raven doesn't listen, and she does what she wants. No offense taken," he said. Jesse doubted that he'd ever get anything from Raven but attitude, regardless of how much he tried to do for her, and how much he had already tried to do for her. But he wasn't about to open up to this stranger - he wasn't about to list all his woes in regards to 'family' life, and how it never seemed to work out, no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he fell back into silence, the dagger easily blooming into life beneath his dexterous touch.

[Kaspar]

Kaspar merely gave a grunt of acknowledgement, the gruff sound that most men understood to mean "I feel you, bro" but didn't think it worth voicing. In fact, he was done talking, done trying. Sometimes it was too much of an effort and if Hel knew one thing it was when to give up and in to silence.

The time flew by, just the buzzing of the needle and the incessant buzzing of thoughts through his brain. Occasionally he'd recommence the humming, or singing under his breath, letting it fade out naturally or end abruptly with a firm click of the tongue, a personal admonishment over his lack of achievement on progress on that particular tune. At some point he'd forgotten to look, and when he did it was to his pleasure that the tattoo was nearing completion, the strong black lines and shading of the black and grey piece coming together. "Nice, man..." He let out a low whistle, admiring the finishing touches that were being putting into place.

[Jesse Fforde]

The finishing touches consisted of a few stray shades, a line or two that needed strengthening. The dagger came together quite well, in the end. Once he was done, he put the machine aside and reached for the palm oil balm which he recommended everyone use during the healing process. It helped to trap the colours, to keep it fresh and bright.

"I'm going to give you a tube of this - I give it to everyone. You probably won't need it, 'cause you'll heal real quick," he said as he passed the tube -- a smaller one than usual -- to Kaspar. He also had the cling wrap on hand, ready to wrap around the piece. The gloves came off with swift movements, Jesse tossing the soiled plastic into the trashcan. Before he did anything with the cling wrap, he reached for his phone and waved it a little with an inquisitive arch of the brow.

"Do you mind if I take a picture? For social media..." he said. He'd been told that social media really helped to spread the word, to garner attention for one's business.

[Kaspar]

Kaspar laughed, accepting the tube from Jesse, giving a small shake of his head. "Ja, i'm actually interested to see how quickly it does heal, but I am hoping it does not disappear too quickly, if so we have a lot of touch-ups in our future." The man wasn't bothered by the idea of having to get it touched up, though sitting through Jesse's gruffness and off-putting aura on a regular basis wasn't the most appealing thing in the world. Of course, he'd dealt with bigger dicks and worse attitudes in his time, he could handle this guy.

When the phone was picked up and waggled it him Hel gave a confused little frown, it wasn't the first time he'd had a phone waved at him in such a manner, or simply shoved in his face, but Jesse doing it was odd. "Oh. Ok. Social media is certainly a good way to get your work out there, if you tag my band page "Hel" in it you'll get quite a few hits and customers." The way he said it was matter of fact, dismissive and without a hint of bragging. "Or I can share it."

The picture was snapped, Kas helping Jesse to find the band page to like, tag and share across multiple social media forms, laughing when it quickly received the expected attention. He paid the guy for his work, one of those bro nods of thank you and departed, skin already healing at a rapid rate.

[Alice Wilson (DELETED 8534)]

Alice had finally made up her mind. Though it had probably been only a matter of time anyway, since the thought of getting a tattoo had always lingered in her mind somehow. Deciding on the image itself had been the most difficult thing, as she wanted it to be beautiful, yet small. After all, once one grows older, one might not like the tattoo anymore or it might not look as good anymore.

Having gathered her determination and decided on an image now, she reached the shop she had heard about from a few of her friends. Nervousness nesting within her, she entered, stopping right behind the door to take in the atmosphere. Blue-grey eyes scanned the place, as her curious gaze went through the room.

She had never been in a tattoo parlour before. Being here now, she thought maybe she should've come together with someone else. That might have calmed her down a little. How old are you, twelve? she asked herself. After a slightly deeper breath, she went up to the counter. „Hey. Seems I'm at the right place for a tattoo.“ A friendly smile accompanied her words.

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse was in the process of knocking together a few commissions. His job kept him busy; he had an apprentice, now, but an apprentice didn't help much with the work load. An apprentice had to be overseen, and the customers had to be aware that they were being tattooed by someone still in training. It was worth it, in the end, to have the extra pair of hands -- that was if said apprentice didn't bail as soon as his education was finished to get a job at some other parlour. Jesse hoped he was a generous enough boss to keep that from happening.

The sound of the bell over the dimmed sound of punk rock music alerted Jesse to the arrival of a customer. He looked up from the desk, and stood so that he could properly serve said customer. The warm tint to her cheeks and the liquid gleam in her eyes declared her as thoroughly human -- and she looked like a terribly innocent one at that. What with Jesse's unnatural aura causing most humans to turn tail and run, he assumed this one might not last long. She was far too cheerful.

"That you are," he said, offering a friendly smile in return.

"How can I help?" he asked. He still had to maintain a professional facade, even if he doubted this customer's resilience.