Another day at work, the slave labor of injecting ink into skin canvases of the masses. Dressed in a provocative manner, she was asked by many since she was the new girl. With a mini skirt of leather with matching knee high boots and a red satin corset, she kept to the back to keep the wandering eye needing to undress her with their mind.
Sitting in her little cubby sheeted away she drew pictures from within her twisted mind; death covered by beauty, angels loving demons, ect. All of the tattoos on her body; from the bio-mechanize wings tearing out of her spine to the tribal art work of life and death around her waist were all of her designs. Wall art was mass produced, so she specialized in customs and customs only. She had a few pictures of her work, but that was to only show what she was capable of doing. She would not reproduce those piece for other for it felt like a insult if she did.
Running her long brown locks through her fingers, she was bored... more so in need of customers. Tattooing was commissioned so if here was no customers, there was no money. With her boots hooked onto the stool she sat on, music of her favored band Genitortures rang in her ear. How fitting it was to hear it between the running motors of other ink injectors imploding into peoples skin of names and wall art. Listening to the scratched of her pen, she went back to looking for things to do around the shop like cleaning needles and seeing if the boss needed any help in the front... like looking pretty and dragging in the dirt.

((Since Vontae is vampire, I will assume it is dark out, or close to it))

Vontae had wandered the streets for what seemed like ages, looking for something to do. It would seem, to him, that time should pass much more quickly than it did because of how long he had been living...but it was not so. Almost two hundred years and time still passed like clouds across the darkened sky he was watching. So slowly...

He grunted to himself as he bumped into someone, not bothering to apologize, but feeling quite upset that the human had touched him. It did not matter though. The human would pay for his insolence later. Vontae never forgot a face.

It was then his eyes locked on the tattoo parlor across the street. It had been a while since ink had touched his skin. Like him, tattoo's were forever. They were the only thing that could last out as long as he could in this day in age. He had only one tattoo...one he had gotten as a young vampire. It's color was fading though, so maybe it was time for a touch up. It would give him something to do while he waited for the crowds to pick up. Those humans that dare walk the night were just now starting to show themselves.

He walked slowly across the street, getting strange looks as he went. Of course. He was wearing his trench coat, buttoned up to his color, which was pulled up to hide the vunerable pale skin of his neck. He wore a black hat, tipped forward to hide his face, and sunglasses over his delicate eyes, to subdue the lights of the city. No matter, they could not see his face. Ignoring the looks, he stepped inside the tattoo parlor, bells jingling at the door as he did so.

It was there, where he was protected from most human eyes, that he slid off his trench and set held it in his arms, along with his hat and his glasses. His eyes met that of a young human, dressed in a leather mini skirt. She was an artist, of course, different from others as he could already tell. He did not look at her body, as he noticed wandering eyes of other customers did. His golden eyes met hers and he gave her a smile.

"Hello, I suppose you can help me, right?" He cocked his head sideways, studying her face, her eyes, not yet invading her mind as he waited for an answer to his question.

((Yes its night :P she works night shifts as tattoo artist. P.s. Excuse the shortness of the post. Getting Writers Block))

As she was near the front kios cleaning several needles and other instruments that would be placed back in other artists guns, she looked to the jingling bells that came from behind her. The famous trench coat dressed the man as she smiled to him in return as her eyes met his. Eyes... the window to the souls she remember writing. How it was horrible to remember eyes, with bodies that she passed to the underworld.
Turning to give her full attention to him as his question arised she sat down in the stool in the front and nodded in acceptance.
"Yes Sir I can surely help you. What may I be of service?" she asked him as she studied his profile. The skin was like hers, a pale tan but lighter as his eyes were captivating. Though a scar was apparent, scars were history as she possessed them but not as apparent and in the open.
Sitting up she only grabbed a peice of paper out of habit, just in case it was a custom. An artist would not be an artist without paper or pencil.

"Great," He said kindly. Even though he despised humans, he could not help the charm that was his personlality. Even when he hunted, he was charming, unless he was angry.

"I actually am not here to get a tattoo, but for this." He turned his back to her. He had worn a white wife beater...not his usual outfit, but at the moment his clothing was being cleaned, and it was easy to see the small tattoo on his neck once he had pointed it out. It was of a bat. He had gotten it after he had been turned, feeling as though he needed it, though he couldn't place the reason. It was a very realistic piece of art and he was hoping that the touch up would be done by someone talented...someone who would not ruin it.

"I need to get it touched up. It's color is fading. Though another tattoo is on my mind, if you get any ideas," he said winking.

As she inspected the size and detail of the tattoo she smiled with a nod. "Well for being a touch-up I do not mind doing it. But for idea's thats all up to you in choosing. Artists always have idea's, its just the customers that chooses which one," she siad in reply.
Looking under the desk she pulled a form, like all forms, things you need to know and what not. Filling out the needed of artist, what it was for and the price, she left the price empty only to be filled once finished.
"As always, need to signature at the following stating the consiquences and all that other godly stuff and after that we can head to the back!," she replied pushing the paper and pen to him. Seeing she would have some time to get ready, she stepped away from the back to form the other, closer beings that worked with her that she would be working with a touch-up and custom in the making.
Making her way to the back of the room, her little cave of a cubicle, she prepared by inking some little wells and pulling out a small sized coffin, not even big enough to be a person real one. Placing it on the table with a pair of black latex gloves on it she went back into the front to make sure he was finished and not waiting for her.

Vontae nodded. Of course, but as usual he stayed silent. He had many ideas, having the mind of an artist, but there were so many to choose from. Maybe he would go with something typical, or something that may have seemed typical to another but had an entirely different meaning to him.

It took him only a moment to read over it and sign it. When the girl came back, he had his hands folded across his lap and he was sitting on a chair in the far corner of the room. He stood up as she walked in, as was the custom in a lady's presence.

"I have an idea," he said softly, while looking at her curiously. She had pretty brown eyes, filled with pain from something he did not know...at least not yet.

"I want a tattoo, not too big, small enough to fit on my shoulder blade. A bleeding black cross...and flying out from the middle, a crow, also black, with a sort of white or yellow white surrounding it. I know it may be an odd request, but do you think you can do it?"

Amara, the crow, his sacrifice. It fit her perfectly.

As she took the paper and looked to him of the design he asked of from her she looked over the paper before typing it into the computer but still keeping her eyes on him as she talked. "For a job like that, I would be honored to do it. Im the only one that takes customs and only that. Now at the hand of buisness, if you want white in the tattoo as a background it will take some time just to let you know... white is the hardest color to achieve besides the right shade of red." she told the now Vontae from the signature he placed. Standing up she looked to the paper and signed it herself with a little sign in the corner before looking to him again.
"May I have a picture ID with some sort of birthday on it and just follow me, we can get ready and started on this peice." she said as she walked over to the hallway waiting for him to at least be able to see what cubicle she was in.
Making her way to the back she placed the paper on the fax machine that now laid in the hallway next to her room before looking to the man.

((going to assume you posted as Vontae))

"That is fine. I have all the time in the world...an eternity I guess you could say." He smiled and reached into his back pocket, taking out an I.D. He had known she would ask, but somehow he was still surprised. He was half tempted to give her his Russian one. The one he had obtained over fifty years ago, but that would involve some serious questions. This one stated that he had been born twenty years before. Much more believable in the human's eyes he supposed.

"There you go."

He then slid his wallet back into the pocket of his black jeans and followed the girl toe her cubicle.

((Sorry about the short post, tired....))

Taking the mans i.d. she stepped into the hallway only for a second to copy the picture on it before giving it back to him.
"There we go, if you give me a sec, Im gunna draw the picture of the tattoo you described so I can get the ok to do it or if there is any changes you want on it." Giving the hand of guesture to sit in the leather chair with the words threaded in it 'torture chair' she would be sitting with her back to him as she went to the little stool she possessed with the word 'thinking chair' scribbled on it. With one foot in a stand and the other hooked on the stool she was more standing then sitting in the chair. With a pencil out on a clean canvas of paper, she started to draw away to a soft tuned of twisted christmas tunes remade by various punk bands.
There was two designs in her head, one of the iron cross with the crow or the typical cemetery stone that she knew too well of with the crow... so instead of assuming she drew both with a small mist shade behind both of them. These little peices were not hard but only took ten mins of making it up and presenting. Twisting around to face the man she held the canvas with her ideas.
"We got presentation A, with the iron like cross with the crow and mist behind it OR presentation B, with a cemetery celtic like cross that is only changed in the exchange over the iron one? Which one do you prefer or design you would like to show me to try?" she asked with the canvas at hand.

After talking back his ID and sticking it in his wallet, next to various other ID's Vontae took a seat in the chair that she had motiononed towards, nodding. It would be better if she drew it. But if she did not have the right idea, he would have to draw it himself. She sat with her back to him, and drew. He did not speak. He knew better than to interrupt an artist at work. Instead, he studied her. She did not seem at all suspicious when he handed her his picture, which was good, considering it was a phony. She had not even noticed anything suspicious. Perhaps she would notice that there were no watermarks when she looked at the copy later, if indeed that sort of thing showed up on copies. He had someone else make this one for him and hadn't had the time to do it himself. The man was a phony as well and charged too much for a job poorly done. Vontae would have to make himself one later. Luckily, even if she had noticed, there were ways of making a human...think differently.

When she turned to face him, showing him both pictures, he was pulled from his thoughts. He gave her a warm smile and studied the pictures for a moment. The cemetary cross would be appropriate, of course, but the iron one...much more so.

"The iron one is perfect. You are very apt at drawing what is in my head. But of course I would assume that is your job."

As she smiled to his choice and the words that followed the only thing she could do was smile back and laugh a little.
"The mind of a being is easier to tap into after looking and interacting with them for a little while. Though my time with you is a short five minute period, your appearance give a feeling of these things... but enough of that and lets get started." she said as she slid off the stool and onto her heels. As she stood up she looked to Vontae and a look to the picture again.
"If you may, please remove your shirt. I promise not to attack you and ravage your body in exchange for inking pleasure but I just need to measure the size of your shoulder blade and... well I don't like making white shirts black." she said in a fast but understandable pace. She tried to keep humorous in her life, for in the morning hours, humorous is the last thing in her mind. Pulling little old school compass that sat on her little drawing desk, she stood waiting for him. Time was nothing compared to life time.

Vontae laughed as he pulled of his shirt. Little did she know that he was not just any "being" and that his mind was a lot harder to capture than a human's mind.

"I wouldn't think you would be daring enough to ravenge my body in that way, though I'm sure the idea is very appealing," he winked, only half joking.

He felt odd, sitting in the room, half naked with a woman he hardly knew, even though his wife beater had hardly covered up that much more. He was very built, having the strength of a vampire. It was hard to hunt when you were not strong enough to take down prey. He was also oddly pale, which made him feel like wanting to pull the shirt on again. It was no wonder he usually wore black. Not to mention it protected him from light, like the light that was bothering him now.

"Alright, I think I'm ready," he said wincing playfully, "Do your worst."