"I just like ink," Noah replied to Dominic's question. "Not sure why that is. Maybe it's a reaction to growing up in the ass-end of nowhere." People tended to notice his tats simply because he had so many of them, including a full sleeve on one arm, and he tended to wear tank tops when he ran. Anyone who'd seen him around would be aware that he and his tattoo iron were well-met. "Maybe if I can run across some ink, I'll set up my own tattoo shop again." That was a joke-slash-wishful thinking more than anything, although he'd love to create tattoos again if he only had the ink.
Noah thought that there was something very relaxing about talking to another person without staring into their face. Lately, he liked a certain distance. He was starting to feel a touch chilly now that he'd seated himself, but it wasn't enough to keep him from continuing to gaze at the sky, legs still stretched out and ankles crossed.
He smiled when Dominic said not to remind him of the bitching that would be forthcoming as the weather got colder. Anyone was prone to gripe about weather extremes, whether too cold or too hot, but the teens were probably more prone to that than anyone. "Not a big fan of the younger set, then?" he asked idly, twitching one foot lazily. A lot of people weren't, and Noah could understand that.