"Action, yeah, we'll call it that." Between vampires and demons, it was amazing they all weren't dead by now, truth be told. When his mother bothered to ask him if he was really all right, then it was something huge. She did not, however, ask him to come home. Hell would have to freeze over before Naomi James ever thought to do something as crazy as that. Better to have him far away where he wasn't an embarrassment, at least in their mind.
Quentin couldn't move much, given the work she was doing, and in truth he didn't really want to. He still managed a small nod of his head. "So far, looks to me like you've got a handle on it, so kudos in my book," he said. If this tattoo came out good, like he thought it would? Then Quentin just found himself a new shop, and that made him beyond excited. His tattoos were another outlet for his art, and all his work meant something to him. And, yes, it helped that it set him apart from the rest of the family, and like hell he'd stop that any time soon.
"It's good," he said. "I'm still establishing myself in town, but I'm working on a commission, got a website set up, all that stuff. I'm lucky that I'm financially secure enough that if I don't sell something for a bit, I'll be all right." Thank god for his rich as fuck family, about the only thing the James were good for. So long as Quentin stayed out of trouble, his parents had no problem setting him up out here in Michigan. It was a win-win situation for everyone involved. "Looking to get into a gallery or something soon, though. I've got a lot of pieces and a show would help get my name out there."