Zach nodded because he had spent hours doodling random things, writing down anything that seemed to be of interest, and such. But nothing just...felt right, and that's what he needed. It was going to go on his skin for the rest of his life. It mattered what it said or...was a drawing of. And the details needed to be right. But thinking on them hadn't helped him much so far. He was no closer than he was a couple of years ago.
"I want that," Zach agreed, leaning forward across the table, "I want tattoos that have meaning, and maybe they don't look like much to other people, but what matters is that they have meaning to me. It doesn't have to be a special snowflake of a tattoo, it just...has to be me." He hoped she understood, as he was bad at communicating what he meant about tattoos.