Miss Errona (ladyszczyk) wrote in halcyon_halls, @ 2008-03-02 06:11:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | leecee, wes |
Week Five: Thursday
Who: Aqzlece and Wes
Where: That tattoo shop
When: Early Evening, Thursday
What: Leecee has always had this interest in tattooing...other people.
"Thank you." Men were so polite. Even the ones with all the metal and tattoos. A man in a ripped denim vest and faded cargo pants held one of the double doors open for her and smiled wide. His head was shaved and his ears pulled in whatever way gravity warranted. Leecee felt his pain, she too loved large earrings.
Today, however, he might not want to get too close. A day out on the town meant she stocked up as she was out of the school wards. Silver earrings dripped from either ear in a gorgeous spiral with different, small semi-precious stones following the path downards with a single, silver pole resting on its side. Her necklace was a silver chain with a myriad of small charms in different shapes and of different materials. It looked very posh, but anyone with mentally or other invasive powers would know to pull their hands back. Ms. Szczyk's mind was no book to be read openly.
She sailed into the store on black peep-toe heels. Her dress was black satin and, while generally modest, it hugged her hourglass figure in all the right ways. Cleavage-first, she stepped onto the white star in the middle of the floor and openly took in her surroundings. Some people turned, she definitely looked out of place amongst the students and various riff-raff. Still, she was interested and it was much cleaner and well-lit than she thought it might be.
Perhaps it would have been better to make an appointment, but she was in the city already. And had just happened to have some fresh baked goods in a basket. It was an old Southern way of getting to be nosy. Basket held in the crook of one arm and her clutch purse held underneath well-manicured red nails, she sailed up to the counter. "Excuse me, I'm just here to see Professor Venizelos. I don't suppose he's available for a tic?" She asked, laying on the accent thick and standing with one hip jutted. Smiling with glossed lips and fluttering mascara'd lashes, he was probably busy.
But probably not busy enough to refuse her muffins.