we all long for what could have been (sensing) wrote in haunted_roads, @ 2008-02-16 17:50:00 |
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Current mood: | okay |
Week Two: Monday
Who: Chris and Roxy
Where: Crimson Needle Tattoos
When: early evening
It had taken Chris a while to summon up the nerve to actually walk into the tattoo parlor. It was nothing like the little shop in Cypremort where he'd gotten his first and only tattoo done; that shop had been an afterthought tacked onto the end of an anonymous strip mall, and the only service offered there had been ink. No piercings, no modifications, no bizarre jewelry, no bright colors, no loud music. He'd been reasonably comfortable there, and he had tolerated the small tattoo on the inside of his wrist fairly well. It had been an impulse, something he'd done just after Amity had left for the University of Washington.
He wasn't positive why he'd decided to visit the Crimson Needle, beyond the fact that he was killing time before he had to make his way to work for his 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. shift. There were plenty of bars around this neighborhood, but as a general rule, Chris disliked bars. He'd very rarely ever drank, and they were usually noisy and filled with boisterous people with lowered inhibitions. Not good when you didn't like for random strangers to touch you. He found it to be simpler to buy a six-pack of beer at the grocery and take it home on those occasions when he wanted something alcoholic. At any rate, he'd eaten dinner and now he was at loose ends. He didn't have enough time to go back to Old Town Towers, he didn't have his sketchpad with him and he couldn't see just sitting down and doing nothing until he was due at the hospital.
So here he was, pale and skittish with both hands tucked into the pockets of his cargo pants, hanging around the edges of the shop, cautiously looking at some of the tattoo art that hung on one wall. This place made him feel awkward with its red and black decor, the pulsing music from the sound system and the bright lights. He felt like an alien in here, particularly as his attention was caught by a tall man with an inordinate number of metal piercings in his face and ears. Chris frowned as he tried to figure out why the guy's earlobes looked so strange, and he finally realized that there were big holes in them, holes big enough to pass a candy cane through. He blinked and his cheeks colored as his scrutiny was noticed, and he quickly turned his head away. What would happen if that man ever had to go through the metal detector at the airport? he wondered.
If he ever did get another tattoo, he'd sketch it out himself, but looking at the pictures that had already been sketched gave him something to do besides just stand around and look out of place. He guessed he could wander over to the display case of body jewelry... Maybe he'd do that in a minute. Chris turned his head to one side, glancing out from beneath his lashes to see if anyone seemed to be watching him. Nothing, and he repeated the motion to look to the other side. The scary man with the holes in his lobes was on the other side of the shop, and the other three customers didn't seem to be paying him any attention.
One hand emerged from his pocket to push dark hair out of his eyes, and once he'd done that, Chris began walking along the wall toward one of the display cases, the hand finding its way back into his pocket as he went. It was a mannerism that he did not even think about, something that had become a habit years ago. The fewer things he touched, the better. It didn't occur to him that he looked as if he could possibly be hiding something in those pockets when he did that. He'd grown up in a small town, and the thought of random violence wasn't one that troubled him that much.
He stopped at the far end of the display case, his head canted to one side as he tried to figure out exactly what he was looking at. Earrings, nose rings, belly button rings? He had no idea, and he blinked down at the jewelry, one corner of his lower lip held thoughtfully between his teeth.