ℒooks Can be ∂є¢єινιηg ♠♥

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His lip was throbbing, but Finley resisted the urge to run his tongue over the newly made piercings. He hopped off the chair and sauntered over to a mirror, examining his reflection, "You're right- they look good," Finley was pleased. They looked just how he wanted them to.

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"Good, I'm glad." He leaned back against the entry counter, just across from Finley, and lifted a brow. "Do you draw?"

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"Not regularly," There was a hint of confusion in Finley's voice and he glanced at Kalian, "Why do you ask?"

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"Just curious." And he was. But they needed new tattoo artists, and he was curious. So he stood straight and approached Finley. "You got any tattoos?"

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"Nope," Finley shook his head and shrugged, "Never had a reason to get one. Sorry." He didn't sound very apologetic and Finley dug around in his bag, "You said ten dollars, right?"

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"Yes." He nodded, held out a hand. "Listen, I need a new artist. You interested?"

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"Artist?" Finley laid the crisp ten dollar bill in Kalian's outstretched hand, "I never claimed to be one. Why ask me?" He was skeptical- since when did he give off the aura of an artist? He didn't even have much interest in anything like that. Still, a job meant money, so he had to consider that.

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"You have experience in getting pierced. You draw. I've been asking everyone who comes in here. It's just me here, so.." He nibbled on a thick, slightly glossed lip.

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"I draw, but I've never drawn tattoos or anything," He raised an eyebrow, "Shouldn't you ask someone with more experience?"

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"I was just wondering." He pocketed the bill, stood to his full height - 5'8" - and gestured. "Do you want anything else pierced or tattooed?"

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"I only came for the snakebites," Finley shrugged, looking around, "I've never considered a tattoo before. Are they expensive?"

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"Not really. All depends on where you want them done." He paused. "I could show you some of mine, give you the rough prices if you decide you want to think about getting one."

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"Okay," Finley's gaze lowered to Kalian's chest and he felt a small throb of interest in his stomach, "Let's see 'em."

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He drew his shirt off in a motion that was so fluid and easy that it seemed he had practiced. He didn't, but when he was at the beach, he had to take his shirt off. It was just how it worked.

He seemed like he was a sculpture. Hard, strong abs flexed almost instinctively as he stood straight, his shoulders back and head up. Chiseled lines on his chest (no chest hair, but a small line of dark brown hair from his bellybutton down). Dark brown nipples.

But it was the tattoos that were fascinating.
Vines went right up his sternum from his bellybutton up to his throat, a small rose blossoming in the hollow of his throat. A bellybutton piercing, nipple piercings. The vines spread out like a tree, curling down to meet at the beginning of his (hidden) genitalia, but the v-line that showed underneath his skinnies showed that there was a v-line. He turned, showing off his back - a set of faerie (not angel) wings spread from the long line of vines on his spine out to touch his shoulde rblades and the tops of his shoulders, all the way down. The vines also curled over his a**, almost cupping it.
Another rose, though this was a larger one, blossomed at the tailbone.

"Do you like them?"

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Finley stepped closer, just looking at the tattoos, but soon his fingertips were tracing their shape, the wings on his back, down the vines on his spine. He traced them until they disappeared back into his clothing, "Which ones hurt the worst?"

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"Sternum and spine."

For some reason, his nipples were hard even though it was somewhat warm in the parlor. His shirt was held in his hand, but his face was open, relaxed.

"I got the vines done first, all in one hit. It cost four hundred bucks, not per piece, but for the tattoos overall. I got the roses, both of them, for thirty bucks, but the wings were.. Eh, what was it? Five hundred bucks? It takes guts to cross over bone, but the vines on my legs cost a little extra - my tattoo artist doesn't particularly like tattooing 'no-no zones', as he calls them. I convinced him easily enough."

He smiled at the memory.

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Finley chuckled and his fingers withdrew from Kalian's warm skin, "They look intriguing. Art on skin, like you're some kind of human canvas. I like it."

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"I have some more. I did a sort of anklet on my left foot myself, when I was an apprentice. But other than that.." He shrugged. "I do one once a year, in memory of something that's important to me that.. Passed." His face closed with pain and he put his shirt back on. By the time he was done, he was friendly, professional.

He smiled. "So, do you want a tat done or no?"

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Finley nodded, a smile touching his lips, "I do, actually. I even have an idea for it."

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"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk about it so I can get you a rough sketch?"