It was the middle of the night, everyone in his house (and the one next door) were asleep. But Garret wasn't tired, because Garret's brain had decided it would never sleep again. Every time his eyes closed he would see that basement, and the people in it, that vampire biting his husband and neither of them being able to do a thing about it. Those fangs in his own skin, the lightheadedness and darkness clouding his vision, thinking that this would be the death of him, this last drain, but then it never was. And those eyes. He would never get those eyes out of his head.
So instead, he ran. Sneakers were pounding the pavement in the cool darkness, and all the lights in downtown Danvers were out except for the 24 convenience store, and a suspicious neon sign Garret didn't recognize.
So, naturally, he went to investigate it. Pausing in front of the door, panting softly from his run, he discovered that it was the Frozen Embers Tattoo Parlor. There was a guy inside, heavily inked of course, bent over a netbook and braiding his long, black dreadlocks. He seemed oblivious to Garret's presence, so the pathfinder decided to remedy that. Pulling open the door he stepped inside, looking around. The place was small, almost like a dungeon, but not uninviting. Posters of tattoo designs were plastered everywhere, as well as several binders in the coffee table in the waiting area.
"Can I help you?" the dude called from his desk, his fangs immediately apparent.
"You're a vampire," Garret informed him.
The guy sniffed, then smiled a little. "You're a human. Congrats."
"Yep," Garret smirked, slowly making his way over. "Pathfinder. And... other stuff. You know you're the only place open?"
"The 7-11 is open, if you're lookin' for a slurpee."
"No, what I mean is, why are you open? You can't get many people here at this hour."
Rising from his seat, the vampire approached Garret, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why're you running at this hour?"
"Because I'm... because I can't sleep." It had not occurred to Garret until now that this guy was a vampire, like the last stranger he'd encountered had been a vampire. And here he was, alone and very vulnerable, not even having his cell phone on him. It hadn't occurred to him until now to be worried.
"I'm not gonna hurt you," the voice interrupted, making Garret's thoughts scatter. "Unless you're gonna pay me to drill a needle into you."
Licking his lips, Garret frowned. "What are you, a mind reader?"
"Yeah," the guy said with a shrug. "But mostly, you just got this look on your face like you realized you'd walked into a vampire's lair in the middle of the night and you're alone. If it makes you feel any better, I got holy water in the back. You could hang onto it and chuck it at me if you feel like being a total dickface."
Chuckling, Garret shook his head. "I'm good," he said, starting to make his way around the room, looking at all the designs. Most of them were tacky and cliche- mushrooms with fairies on them, naked devil girls, tribal things, Chinese characters, roses and skulls. All the stuff you'd expect to find in a tattoo parlor. Some designs were elaborate and interesting, obvious originals, and he figured they took hours to work on. Who the hell had time for that? Tattoos as a whole were pointless, in Garret's opinion. Nothing lasted forever, and there was no doubt that eventually, something inked on your body, even something meaningful, would be regretted.
Flipping through the sheets on a display rack, Garret chuckled at some things, frowned at others, and stopped dead on a page littered with tramp stamps and girl tats. "Holy shit, it's Lloyd!" he gasped, grinning. Amidst the various artwork was a sassy purple dragon, and the way it looked at Garret was exactly the way that Lloyd sometimes looked. Usually when he was being coy. Or annoyed.
"Lloyd is a purple dragon tramp stamp?" the shop guy asked.
"Pretty much," Garret smirked, running his hands over the plastic protective cover. It was like Lloyd had shrank himself into a design and snuck his way here, just to pop out as a surprise.
"So... is that the one?"
"One what?" Garret asked dumbly, looking up.
"The ink you wanna get."
"No, I'm-" Pausing, he looked back at the design, and smiled softly. That was his Dragon in there, sassy bitch. Even if she was on lend to Captain Toast, that dragon would always be his. And maybe he couldn't have Lloyd physically, but why not symbolically? "Yeah," he said after a moment. "That's the one."