inks and holes: wednesday afternoon

[halfbad.livejournal.com]

There wasn't any rhyme or reason for Nathan to have walked into the tattoo shop today. He had enough tattoos to last him a lifetime but the art displayed out front had been intriguing. Some of it was grotesque but alluring (no, Nathan didn't know how that was possible) and some of it was beautifully moving.

The artist inside looked rough and tumble but once Nathan got over his initial shyness and hesitancy, he'd been more than welcome to open up about some of the designs. If the tattoo artist had noticed the tattoo on Nathan's neck, he hadn't said anything and Nathan didn't tell anything either. That wasn't art.

That had been torture.

The more and more he talked with the artist, the more interested Nathan became in getting something like this inked on his body, something he wanted and he chose. He didn't want to make the decision right now but he did ask if he could hang around, watch the artist work if anyone came in and maybe draw a few things for him.

He rubbed the tattoo on his wrist and started wandering quietly around, checking out various designs and occasionally commenting. But, it was mostly just quiet.

[Open, if you're in the tattoo shop, sure]