Noa Bellamy (sharpthings) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2016-08-09 16:20:00 |
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Noa had had some hesitation when she’d initially met Delia Wallace in the LBJ district at the end of July. In part because Delia was a government worker, and as much as Noa had been trying to rethink how she approached them, it was difficult to entirely erase her feelings in such a short time. Luckily her hesitation had been outweighed by her own curiosity though, since Delia had been present with a camera, taking photographs of the clusters of people that had enjoyed water. It had also spurred Noa into broaching a conversation with the other woman, and though it had been brief, their talk had been long enough to exchange contact information and establish a time for Delia to come see Noa’s tattoo shop. Whether or not she completely trusted the woman, Noa had known that talking about Rendition was a good idea for exposure, and above all she wanted to get the name out to the public. It was with that knowledge that Noa waited at the front entrance for Ms. Wallace to arrive, with only the last few touches to make to her new baby before it was ready for a public opening. New businesses were a big part of what Delia was interested in seeing. From all reports, there hadn't been much to go with in Austin for a while, so people putting together stores and shops was interesting both from the aspect of the city and the people behind them. When she'd found out from Noa about the tattoo shop she was opening, Delia had immediately been interested in stopping by to get information in a more productive way than in the middle of a loud gathering. She'd cleared it with her boss, got an escort to give her a ride, and made her way to a part of Austin she hadn't yet had much chance to explore. The shop wasn't hard to find, and once the truck stopped by it she let herself out, leaving the soldier to wait for her as she walked up to the door and gave Noa a little wave, smiling softly. “Hey, sweetheart,” Noa greeted with a subdued smile in return. It was hard to take a dislike to Delia, she was quickly learning. “I’m real glad you found the place all right. Come on in.” She held the door open wider, and glanced over Delia’s head at the truck. There was the usual nerves Noa always felt before she revealed her hard work to a person, but nothing more unusual than that, which was a relief. She wasn’t sure what she would have done if she’d felt uncomfortable, since it would have been too late to cancel at that point. “Hi,” Delia replied easily, her smile spreading a bit. “Thank you, it was pretty easy for them to find.” She stepped inside past Noa once the door was opened for her, taking a moment to let her eyes adjust once she was out of the sunlight. “I really appreciate you having me over, especially before you've opened,” she added, absently taking the lens cap off her camera and slipping it into her pocket. “Did you want to show me around before we sit for some questions? I can take pictures while you do, if that's alright.” “That’s fine, honey,” Noa assured as she stepped away from the door and further into the front waiting area. “We can start here and work our way back.” The shop itself had a palette of oranges and warm reds, with woodgrain throughout. There was framed artwork on the walls, and other small things that gave it the feeling that it was much classier than the shops that had floor to ceiling flash. It had been Noa’s intention to make it more accessible to individuals that maybe would have otherwise felt uncomfortable coming in. “I did most of the work with a handful of other people, but the government did a lot of the heavy lifting when they cleaned the space up for me.” She went at Delia’s pace, letting the photographer take her share of pictures before they moved on to the next area. The work stations were by far her favorite, and that was apparent in the way she explained them. Delia did her best not to hold up Noa from being able to walk her through the shop. She had a practiced eye and a quick trigger finger when it came to framing and taking pictures, so she was able to keep up with the pace Noa was setting, though she did appreciate the other woman seeking to take her time to allow her more opportunity to get everything she needed. “How long have you been working on getting it fixed up?” she asked, tilting her head to look at her over her camera before disappearing behind it again. To Noa it felt like she’d been working on giving the space a facelift for years, but that wasn’t the truth, just how the time seemed to have passed. “A few weeks,” she told Delia. “Most of the structure was here already, so I only had to open one wall up, and repaint to get it this far.” Noa had been grateful for the few guys that Bishop had been able to spare for construction purposes. She wouldn’t have been able to get as close to opening without them. Gesturing back towards the chairs in the stations she added, “The government soldiers were real nice about letting me keep some of the things that had been left before.” “A few weeks?” Delia asked, raising an eyebrow. Noa must have had the right few people to help her out, considering how put together everything was. “It looks really good!” She moved past Noa to go toward the stations, making sure to get good shots of them before turning back to her. “No reason for them to take things that would be put to good use, right? It looks really nice in here, Noa.” “I had a lot of help,” Noa assured, a laugh hovering around the edge of her statement. She knew it seemed more than a little unbelievable that she was ready to open with less than a month of work. Then she looked around the space herself and tried to see it through eyes that hadn't already mapped every nook and cranny, and she only let her mouth crook a little at the compliment. “I'm hoping that the atmosphere will help draw in clients.” There'd been strategy to her design. “I ain't looking to run people off ‘cause they think this is a biker shop.” Delia may have been newer to the city but that didn't mean she hadn't heard about some of the residents. She was aware there was a sizable group of bikers - and some who were causing a good bit of trouble. The possibility of being pigeonholed was there, but from what she could see she doubted that would happen. “It doesn't seem like a biker shop to me,” she replied with a smile, lowering her camera and raking her hair back away from her face. “Is there someplace we could sit?” “I’ve got a small office we can use,” Noa replied, then led Delia that way. It wasn’t anything more than a desk, chair, and a couch, partitioned off from the rest of the stations by a half wall, but it was smaller and more private than the waiting area. Enough space for her to work on all the parts of owning a business. Noa moved a few frames off the couch and set them to the side of it before she took a seat in her desk chair and turned it away from the desktop. “Are you publishing back in Denver?” she asked out of interest. Following Noa back to the office, Delia replaced the lens cap on her camera and set it down on the couch beside where she sat herself. She opened the small notebook she had to a blank page and made a few notes at the top of it to record the day and where they were, giving a soft hum in response to Noa’s question. “It depends,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “Some things are just for government records, but things like this, stories about specifics in the city being rebuilt and growth - that's geared more toward public consumption, too. Hopefully that's alright?” She offered her a smile. “What made you want to open this shop? Is it something you'd been wanting to do for a while?” Noa nodded. “I wouldn’t have invited you here if it wasn’t, honey.” And it was about time there was some transparency between the rest of the city and the people within the Dog Park. A thought that she never thought she’d have, but times were changing. “I’ve worked in tattoo shops since I was a teenager, and I had my own out in the Dog Park,” she began to explain. “Wasn’t much more than a refurbished shed, but it was enough that it gave me a feel for my own business.” But even though transparency was at the forefront of her mind, she was careful with her words. “Felt right to find some space to claim as my own when the government opened up the option.” Delia raised an eyebrow as she jotted down the responses Noa gave. She wasn’t exactly a stranger to someone getting a start in a less than nicely viewed environment or career early, but it was always interesting to hear how someone got into it. They weren’t always stories to be shared, or to be asked about, but working in a tattoo shop required a different skill set than she could imagine having at such an early age. “It’s always nice to have something of your own,” she commented with a smile. “I used to, before all this happened.” It was always nice to see someone find their own place, reach for success. She missed what she’d had, but if she wasn’t moving forward then what was the point? “You said you started working in tattoo shops as a teenager? What drew you to them?” “Desperation mostly,” Noa admitted with a soft exhaled laugh as punctuation. “I was broke and jobless, sleeping on a couch. Friend of mine knew I liked tattoos, knew I was an artist, so he sent me towards a guy he knew that owned a shop and was looking for front desk help.” Recalling all of the details felt like they happened a century ago for Noa. “Adam gave me my first real break. He let me apprentice, and he was the first one I listened to who told me to clean up my life.” There were a lot of things that Noa knew she’d never be able to really thank him for. “It was one of those things that found me more than I found it.” She smiled at Delia, like she knew the cliché nature of the statement. It was a familiar story, though with different details than what Delia knew. She understood those feelings, and it made her even more glad that Noa had gotten a shop of her own to open up in the newly reformed Austin. Everyone deserved success, but especially those who had worked so hard and long for it. It wasn't easy starting at the bottom. “Sounds like you were made for each other, you and tattoos,” she said, offering her a smile as she settled more into her chair and turned to a fresh page in her notebook. “So, tell me, what was the first tattoo you ever did?” Starting at the beginning and working toward where they were then, it gave them plenty to talk about. Delia was in no hurry, and grateful for the time Noa gave her. By the time she left she had plenty to work with, both in pictures and words. |