I must be thinking too much because Harley was quick to point out that I could hold my arms however felt most natural. Deciding it was more comfortable to fold them across the top of the chair and lay my head on them, I did just that. I couldn't help but squirm a little as I thought about the tattoo and what it would truly look like on my skin. Would it look just as good as it did on the paper? I was confident in Harley's work. With how she felt about it, how could it not look good? When she mentioned being shy or cold, I turned my head in curiosity, watching as she grabbed a towel to hand to me. My first reaction would have been to shake my head and tell her I was fine. After all, I used to live in a family pack environment where nudity was just the way of life. We were always just a step away from shifting for the next meal or payday so it wasn't anything to be ashamed of. I looked around the shop though, reminding myself that Sacrosanct was different and it might make other people uncomfortable.

Offering a polite smile to Harley, I nodded and took the towel, placing it between my chest and the back of the chair so that I would be properly covered when I leaned back against it. "Thank you." I waited patiently while the other Were got the supplies she needed then turned my head again to listen as she said it would come to life. I could hear the smile in her voice without turning my head fully to see her and it made my own lips smile, knowing that I could find some happiness in her. I always felt Harley was distant with the rest of the pack, guarded. I'm sure she had her reasons for it, but it was nice to see her unwind a little, too. She explained what she had to do first, telling me she had to clean the area and wanted to confirm where I wanted it. I nodded along, letting her know I was listening. I tried to be as still as possible while she shaved what little hair was on my back, wanting to be the perfect (or as close to it as I could be) customer for her.

Next, she got a piece of paper and went to work outlining. I could feel the tiny marks on my back and I focused once again on moving as little as possible. It was soothing, feeling the small movements and touches to my back. I tried to convince myself that maybe that's all I would feel when she was actually doing the tattoo, but I knew I was just lying to myself. When she asked if I was happy with the placement, I took the offered mirror and held it up so that I could see the reflection in the mirror behind me. Looking at the outline, I tried not to show just how nervous I was. It covered a lot of area, which meant a lot of needlework on my skin....but that's what I asked for. Finally, I straightened my spine (metaphorically speaking) and nodded. "Yes. That's where I want it." I met her gaze in the mirror and smiled more naturally, wanting to reassure her that I wanted to go forward with it. I could handle this. Handing the mirror back to Harley, I took a breath as she told me she would start with a line to get me started. I nodded again and laid my head down on my arms, trying not to tense or brace myself.

Relax, relax...that's what I kept repeating to myself in my head as I heard some movement then the unmistakable buzz of the tattoo gun. It was a low noise, but for Were's it was easy enough to hear. It almost had a comforting effect and I held onto that in my mind. Same tone, reliable. I continued thinking of that even as I felt the first prick of the needle to my skin. Again, I started repeating to myself to relax, not wanting to mess her up by tensing on instinct at the contact. It was surprisingly easy not to do that, though, once I knew what to expect. At her question, I shook my head and this time, I knew I meant it. "Not bad at all. Thanks, Harley. I can do this." She was really good at assuring her customers and I wanted her to know that I appreciated the steps she was taking with me. Maybe she did this with everyone, but it made me feel a lot better about the whole experience. It also helped that Harley liked to work to music. I could focus on the melody and the reliable buzz of the tattoo gun (which somehow flowed along with the tone of the music seamlessly) instead of thinking about what she was doing.

At her question, I almost tensed up instinctively if only because I wasn't expecting her to want to talk about personal stuff. Instead, I made myself keep breathing and turned my head on my arms just so she could hear me better when I replied. "Yes, actually. His name is Alexander. He's a Hunter." I knew it was odd for a Hunter and a Were to be dating, but I wasn't ashamed or scared. Tetradore even knew who he was and what he was to me and didn't seem to mind so why should anyone else? I waited for Harley's reply, wondering if I would get judgement or an open mind. I had a feeling she would know that I wasn't calling him a hunter just because he liked to carry a rifle and shoot squirrels or rabbits.

alexis wilde