Archive of Our Own

Jon didn’t bother asking why Georgie was loitering around his work, given she was making a purchase whenever she finished a mug, and he was just used to it at this point. It meant she had a question to ask him that she couldn’t have him waiting three days to respond.

He was just finishing up the final order of his shift, a regular with glasses who almost always wore sweaters of some description, if not a jacket. He had complained about how Jon made tea once, and ever since ordered his tea from Basira and the coffees from him - something about his co-workers being too busy to come get them themselves. The only other thing he knew was that this man had at least one tattoo, some flowers he didn’t know around a finger. He apparently bought books about flowers and poetry from Daisy in the other half of the store.

The man left with the four hot take away cups, waving at Georgie as he left. That was strange. He had never waved at other customers before. Or maybe he had, since Jon was usually in the back grabbing his things before he could see the man leave.

‘I’ll grab your stuff, Jon. Just go talk to Georgie, she looks like she’s about to start vibrating if you don’t get to her,’ Basira told him, shoving him out from behind the counter.

The worst thing about your best friend and housemate knowing where you work when they get to pick their own hours is that they know your hours, and Jon had learnt that first hand, when being dragged into the seat across from Georgie, the small tattoos visible on her wrists as her sleeves rode up to grab his. He never quite understood why she got them, but she liked them well enough, and she was getting enough income from What The Ghost? that she didn’t particularly need another job on top of that, even though she would take on editing jobs for other people as well.

‘You’ve got that look in your eyes, what do you have planned?’ he asked, not truly meeting her eyes, but watching her fingers as they tapped out a tune on the mug in her hands, mostly used for its warmth and not the hot chocolate within. It wasn’t cold inside, but the rain could be heard from outside, not heavy, but enough that the sound was both calming and a diturant from going outside.

‘Melanie got a walk in so she can’t sit with me while I get my tattoo today…’ Georgie started, her finger tapping getting more deliberate. She was always needed someone with her when she got tattooed, to talk to her so she wouldn’t focus on the pain.

He knew what this meant, there was no escaping it now. ‘She can’t just talk to while she does the walk in’s tattoo?’ he tried, despite knowing the futility of it. He was going to be going into the studio down the road with Georgie.

‘She could, but it’s her cousin, so she won’t,’ was the response. And that was that. Jon gave Basira his apron in exchange for his bag and waited by the door for Georgie.

It wasn’t that he had anything against tattoos or piercings, despite having none himself. It was just the memory of one of his old roommates doing stick and pokes late at night while he was half asleep, defying his mother in his sleep dazed state. The idea of being stabbed with anything in anyway was just something that didn’t entirely sit well with Jon.

However, morbid curiosity was what drove him to say, after Georgie got her first tattoo, a little ghost with headphones, that if she ever needed someone to go with her, he’d do it. He wanted to know how it worked, and he wanted to see it in person, not just online. He didn’t go with her for her last one, since it was part of Melanie’s apprenticeship for her to practice script.

Since then, Georgie had had her eye on a floral tattoo, since the artist Melanie was training under specialised in floral tattoos, having also taken a floristry course at some point between his tattoo apprenticeship and opening a tattoo shop with his cousin. He had apparently taken in Melanie due to her piercing qualifications - another thing Georgie had volunteered for.

The tattoo shop was, admittedly, far nicer than Jon had been expecting. Despite the blackout curtains covering the windows, there were hanging baskets of flowers between the curtains and glass, the name of the store in white on said windows. Day’s Eye Tattoo.

The inside of the shop was open plan with a desk separating the stations where the four artists worked, and a waiting area. At the receptionist’s desk was a brunette who didn’t look like she’d work there, despite the flowers dotted around the place. She was bright, was the best way Jon could describe her; bright eyes, yellow shirt, what Georgie would tell him was “glowing” skin. On her pinky was a ring with a small eye on it, and around her wrist was a feather tattoo - a cedar waxwing feather, his mind would later supply.

‘Hey Sasha,’ Georgie greeted, the receptionist - Sasha - coming around the desk to give her a hug before returning the greeting.

‘Hey Georgie, Martin’s just finishing his tea in the back, but go ahead and take a seat at his station, it’s impossible to miss,’ she told her, letting the two of them past.

Sasha was right, it was impossible to miss this “Martin’s” station, given that it was the only one vacant.

Melanie was tattooing a woman who looked admittedly similar to her - Her cousin, Jon remembered - while the lady’s friend looked like he was going to throw up while Melanie and her cousin laughed. Melanie waved at them as they went past, smiling when she realised that Georgie had managed to get Jon to come along.

Across from her was another lady, about her age with an undercut, furiously sketching out ideas on her tablet, taking sips of coffee between every few lines. It was a take away cup from his work, Jon noted. Melanie had one as well, but it hadn’t entirely registered yet. She had a lot of animal pieces around her, an entire sleeve of predatory animals down her left, and it looked like the start of another sleeve on her right.

The final occupied station was run by another person Jon knew, his old uni roommate. Gerry was tattooing the outline of a small fire on the inside of a woman’s wrist. She had a small giddy smile as she watched the tattoo machine, like she could barely believe she was doing this. He looked shocked when he changed his needles to colour, seeing Jon walk in with a client, despite it being Georgie. The confused frown turned into a small smile as he sat in the chair Georgie told him to.

The final station was littered with dry flowers, drawings of flowers in watercolour with the meanings and client names written next to them and a small plate with an old tea bag on it, three mugs surrounding it. It felt messy, but in an orderly way that was both annoying and impressive.

There was none of that clutter on the actual bench where the tattoo machine and its pedal sat. It was immaculate. The black material clean, and a line of empty caps, with the bottles of coloured and black ink lined up behind them. How a single person could simultaneously be this tidy and this messy in such a small space confused Jon, and peeked that curious flaw in him yet again.

‘You’re here already, Georgie? I’m sorry you had to wait,’ came a voice familiar to Jon. He hadn’t even realised that the regular who had decided he didn’t make tea well enough to order it from him would be familiar enough to recognise his voice.

He instructed Georgie to take off her coat and lay down on what looked like a low to the ground black massage table.while he printed off her stencil, smiling quickly at Jon as went past.

The regular - Martin, his memory now supplied - wasn’t wearing the sweater that Jon usually associated with him, since the tattoo shop was warm. Instead, on display were full intricate tattoo sleeves, plants and other designs climbing his arms. The lower arms in a slightly different style to the ones on his upper arms, matching the style plastered on the walls around his station.

Georgie laughed up at Jon, noticing the familiar scowl that he had when he saw something he just needed to know more about. The last time she could remember seeing that look, he dismantled the coffee machine in their kitchen.

They had to buy a new one.

‘Alright, so let's clean up your arm and then we can check the placement,’ Martin said to her, wiping down the inside of her upper arm before transferring the stencil to her arm.

It was mostly a bunch of lines, making up the head of a rose, the stem breaking off into cursive words, ones that Jon couldn’t be bothered to read, just wondering how the transfer worked.

‘Is it alright?’ Martin asked, seeming nervous or unsure, betraying the talent that he showed in his art and script.

Georgie sat up, looking in the hand mirror that Martin held and looking at Jon. ‘You think it’s good?’

Jon shrugged. ‘That area of skin is pretty tender, it’ll hurt, especially if you’re getting colour and shading done,’ he told her, as if she didn’t already know that.

Georgie rolled her eyes and told Martin it was perfect. Martin just kept looking at Jon, however, seeming almost confused at his words to Georgie.

Martin had heard plenty about Jon, he couldn’t have escaped tales of the man if he wanted to, given how much Gerry spoke of him. Gerry loved to tell stories of his old roommate, laughing about how squeaked out he was by stick and pokes. That was why he was so confused by Jon knowing about how much a tattoo would hurt in a certain area.

The barista had no visible tattoos, and given the look he had on his face when he walked into the shop, and the stories from his cousin, Martin could assume he had none that were hidden either. There was no real way for him to know that other than a lot of research and cross referencing.

It made him smile, knowing that this barista was the type to do a crazy amount of research with no desire to put it into effect.

Jon watched as Martin wrapped an arm rest in cling wrap, getting Georgie to rest her arm on it as she lay down, saying that it was the easiest way to tattoo that area. He watched as Martin opened a new needle and put into the machine after pouring the inks into the small caps on the bench, starting with the black. He watched as Martin double checked his gloves for any holes or dust and started up the machine, the buzzing sound he had heard from the guest room in his and Georgie’s flat when Melanie was staying them when she started her apprenticeship fill his ears.

‘Okay, I’ll start in three… two...one,’ Martin counted down, Georgie taking a deep breath and smiling up at Jon as she felt the pinch and scratch of the needles dragging through her skin.

After one petal had its first go over done, Jon’s eyes glued to the needles the whole time, Georgie smacked his leg. ‘I didn’t bring you to ogle my arm getting stabbed. Talk to me, or play with my hair, or something.’

As requested, Jon talked, about the meaningful nothing that happens in the cafe, in the connected bookshop, that he had read in the last book Daisy had pushed into his hands last week.

Georgie took a breather after the outline was thickened up, smiling down at the flower and words on her arm, laughing at how awkward Jon looked, trying to get a good look at how Martin was changing the needles.

Melanie was checking out her cousin, wrapping her leg in cling wrap as her friend looked like he was going to pass out. The cousins trying not to laugh at the shorter man.

Sasha and the other female artist - Julia, Georgie remembered - were talking to a new client, who could immediately be recognised as Daisy. She smiled and waved at Georgie before holding back a snicker at Jon trying to crane his neck to see how everything worked.

Gerry had finished with his client, wheeling his chair over to sit next to Jon. ‘Never thought I’d see you in my shop,’ he stated, bumping lightly into Jon’s chair, getting an eye roll from Martin.

‘Neither did I, but Georgie gets her tattoos done here, so now I’m here,’ was Jon’s response. His eyes never left Martin’s hands, as he cleaned up his station and took off his gloves, ready to put new ones on when Georgie got back.

Gerry noticed, sending a look to Martin, a laugh behind his eyes, to which Martin responded with a raised eyebrow. ‘Got it, you’re in study mode. I’ll leave you to mentally dissecting my boss here,’ he said as he left, wheeling himself back to his station.

It was sometime later that Georgie’s tattoo was finished, the yellow of the rose standing out well against skin that had probably only seen the light of day less than ten times, the stem turning into the words “no fear”, almost as a reminder to herself. Jon liked it.

‘Just send me a photo in about three weeks so I can check how its healing. There shouldn’t be any complications, but the inner arm is very tender, so we’re better safe than sorry,’ Martin said at the desk, Sasha pulling out a page of tattoo care instructions. ‘Just message if you have any questions.’

Georgie thanked him and dragged Jon along, ready to head home, knowing it was far past The Admiral’s afternoon feeding time and the cat would not be happy.

It was another week until Jon saw Martin again, pulled by the arm, an annoyed Melanie throwing him into a chair before making her way to the counter.

‘Keep him. Please. Also one large chilli hot chocolate, a large Vienna, and a large Beholder’s Latte,’ she ordered, looking like she planned on murdering her boss if he so much as twitched to get out of the window side arm chair.

Before Jon could even open his mouth, she paid, looking like she would rather stab herself than talk to anyone ever again.

‘I was just going to say that he can’t stay unless he buys something. Geeze, Mels’, you look worse than you did when I started thinking that Basira was part of a conspiracy to get me fired, or that Tim was plotting my murder, or I thought your girlfriend was replaced by a doppleganger.’

‘My cousin is on a trip with her… well, she wouldn’t call them friends, but they are. And she’s trying to get out of a hike with them in Prague, the Bohemian Kraust or something, and keeps thinking that she can get out of it because of her tattoo. But I keep telling her, so long as she doesn’t irritate it and keeps it out of direct sunlight, she’ll be fine. And to top it all off, I’ve got Mr Mopey Boss over there, who keeps complaining about his father’s wedding coming up.’

She continued on like that while he made the drinks, absently putting some water on boil.

‘And then, her best friend’s ex girlfriend apparently got engaged to this shit stain who is at least partially responsible for getting him expelled in the first place! And she had the audacity to-’

‘Mels’, I didn’t ring up one of the drinks, would you mind tapping again?’ Jon asked as he passed over the three drinks she ordered, not listening to her tales of her cousin’s best friend’s ex.

‘Right, right, done. Thanks Jon, and please, keep Martin for a while. Use his membership points or something. See you next week,’ she said, smiling and bopping Martin on the head as she left.

‘Of course Melanie. “Or something”. Sure will,’ Jon muttered as he walked back to the boiling water, reading the instructions Basira had left him about tea.

Hot chocolates and coffees, Jon could do, but he was rather hopeless when it came to teas. She did leave one particular note labeled “For The Tea Guy Who Totally Insulted You That One Time”

First of all, Jon, he didn’t insult you. He just said that you over steeped the tea. Now, I know Mr. Flower Finger with the membership card comes in everyday and Tim is more useless at tea that you are, if he even gets scheduled on, since Elias likes him in the bookshop He balances out Daisy’s… Daisy-ness.
Now, to make Flower Man’s tea, it’s easy. You see the blue box? Take two scoops of that. The blue scoop, not the orange scoop. Now put those scoops into the net of the teapot, and pour the boiling water in until it’s full and put the lid on. And finally, put the timer on for three minutes. When the time goes of take the net out. Pour the tea, and give it to him.
It’s that easy.

Don’t break a rib while I’m gone,
Basira

‘I did not know that she could sound so done with me when she’s not even here,’ Jon mumbled as he set the timer. ‘How’d she even know that I’d grab the orange scoop first?’

The timer finished soon enough, and Jon was quick to take out the net, worried that something bad would happen if he wasn’t quick. He knew that was irrational, but it felt like the spirit of Basira Past would come after him if he wasn’t quick enough.

He put the tea pot and a cup on a tray and took it out to the artist, who had a mechanical pencil in one hand and a sketchbook in his lap, small blocks on colour in white boxes and what looked like a pen of water littered around the table. He looked so concentrated that Jon almost didn’t want to disturb him from his glaring at a blank page.

As Jon did put it down, the artist’s head snapped up to look at him, a small look of panic in his eyes. ‘Don’t worry, Melanie paid,’ he said, turning to go back to the counter.

‘Wait,’ Martin called, quickly after doing a double take on the tea pot. ‘I… thank you?’

Jon just nodded, forcing down a smile and walking away.

It was another hour before Martin ordered his second pot of tea, insisting he pay for the first one as well.

He didn’t get to.

Halfway through this second pot, a heavy sigh rang through the cafe, empty except for the two. Martin called Jon over, asking for help.

‘I just don’t know what to do for this client. She didn’t give me much to work off. She just got her first tattoo recently, and all she said she wanted was a flower,’ Martin explained, once he managed to get Jon to sit in the chair across from him.

Taking a sip from the hot chocolate he had made for himself, Jon thought. ‘Well, do you know why she wants these tattoos?’

‘I think Gerry said it was something about rebelling against her very religious family? But she’s only getting tattoos that she can convince them also represent their religion? Something like that. I know she wants to get away from them,’ he explained, tapping his pencil against the page of his sketchbook.

Jon nodded, brought out of his thinking when Daisy walked in, raising an eyebrow at Jon sitting with a customer.

‘I’m sure there’s a flower that means something about opportunities, but also has another meaning that her family would like,’ he said, getting up to take Daisy’s order.

With that, Martin’s face lit up, a quick thank you being uttered out as he quickly started sketching.

‘What was that about?’ Daisy asked, her new tattoo on display, wolf teeth around her wrist like a permanent bracelet.

Jon shrugged. ‘Melanie told me he wasn’t allowed back to Day’s Eye until he got out of his rut. I think I fixed it?’

Some weeks later, Melanie was over at Jon and Gerogie’s shared flat for dinner, The Admiral wandering between their feet and a new piercing adorning Georgie’s ear.

‘Please Jon. I can’t go alone to this, and you pretty much know everyone who’s going anyway,’ Melanie pleaded.

‘No, Melanie, I don’t want to go to some tattoo artist garden party,’ he insisted, giving Georgie a look out the corner of his eye.

‘What are you looking at me like that for?’ she asked. ‘You are well aware that I’m going to be guesting at a convention that weekend. In another country.’

Melanie nodded. ‘And it’s not just tattoo artists. Daisy and Sasha are going to be there too. And other clients. Please Jon, I can’t go alone.’

He just gave her a look. ‘Your girlfriend is going.’

Jon ended up going. He regretted it, but Melanie wasn’t going to leave him alone until he did. She said she would have taken Georgie or her cousin if she could have, but since both of them were going to be out of the country - Georgie in America and her cousin in Egypt - he had to go.

He was the only one there who wasn’t tattooed. Even the barely looking eighteen year old had two.

Martin did not expect to see Jon accompanying Melanie. He had assumed that after the day with the tea, he would only see him when ordering drinks, or maybe next time Georgie got a tattoo. But not at his ‘Help My Dad Is Getting Married To The Same Guy After Their Sixth Devorce And I Need A Date’ party.

He figured it was probably best to ignore that part of the reasoning for the party and just go with it.

‘Jon, hi. Didn’t expect to see you here, usually Melanie would bring Georgie or her cousin,’ he said when he noticed Jon looked off put in the corner of the small garden behind his shop.

‘Both are overseas, apparently,’ the perpetually tired looking man explained, looking into his small plastic cup of water like it held the answers to some mystery that had been plaguing him for his whole life.

Martin nodded, ‘Well, at least this way I can introduce you to some of our regulars. I think the person you helped me with is here today.’

Martin gently pulled Jon through the people to the girl Jon had earlier clocked as barely old enough to have tattoos. Her vibrant red hair and yellow sundress making her easy to spot. Jon recognised her as the girl Gerry was tattooing when he went to Day’s Eye with Georgie.

‘Jon, this is Agnes,’ Martin started, subtly interrupting her conversation with Gerry. ‘Agnes, this is Jon, he helped me pick the stargazer for you.’

Looking at her left shoulder, Jon saw a pink and white flower over the joint, the subtle colouring style he had started to recognise as Martin’s catching his eye.

Golden brown eyes lit up behind glasses, ‘Thank you. The purity aspect of the flower really got my family off my back, even though this flower means it in a non-religious sense. And that it means reaching your own goals? It really means a lot.’

Gerry smiled from behind her. ‘Yeah Jon. Who knew you would be able to pick a flower for someone you don’t even know.’

‘Agnes, it’s wonderful to meet you, but please don’t give me any credit. All I did was serve this guy tea and tell him he was sure to know a flower that would work,’ Jon explained, pointedly not responding to Gerry’s comment.

Agnes reached out her hand, showing a small flame tattoo there. ‘Well, I still want to thank you. It feels like it has more meaning behind it than this little one. I just got a little fire. I told my family that it was a purifying, holy flame, but that’s not what it is to me. To me, it’s the fire of a phoenix reborn, the first step for me becoming my own person,’ she told him.

Despite him not asking, Jon accepted the explanation. ‘Maybe, as you start breaking away, you can start getting phoenix feathers, until you’re your own person and you are entirely your own person,’ he suggested.

If Jon thought she had lit up when he was introduced, he was surely looking into the sun now. Martin figured that was the best time to lead him away to meet the other tattoo artist in Day’s Eye, Julia.

Jon and Julia did not get on as well as he and Agnes did, but they did talk about how she decided on animals, and how she was Daisy’s main artist, but their conversation died out not long after that.

After making the rounds, Martin lost Jon to Daisy and Melanie, who were animatedly talking about Melanie and Georgie’s crossover episodes coming up as Sasha quietly sat, smiling at the two while they bombarded Jon with questions. It was obvious that he was comfortable around the two ladies, but he also wished he was part of that conversation.

Gerry leaned on his shoulder, following Martin’s gaze. ‘You know, my dearest cousin, he would both be brilliant and terrible for you,’ he said.

‘Aren’t you meant to be watching Agnes?’ he hissed, ignoring his cousin’s accusations.

‘She’s talking to Julia; she’s our animal specialist, remember?’ Gerry pointed out. ‘Look, if you want to take him, I won’t stop you, but you know Peter probably won’t like him. Also, he’s a disaster to live with.’

Martin sighed, taking the words in. ‘Look, I’m just tired of dad marrying this same guy over and over, and apparently I can’t just take a friend anymore, so I’m going to see if Jon wants to go with me. And nothing more, okay Gerry?’

As soon as Martin had walked into the cafe with the bag that usually held his sketchbook, Basira ushered Jon out from behind the counter. It had become routine that when Martin had no bookings, he’d come to the cafe to just drink tea and draw out some more flash pieces, or bigger pieces for clients. When it came to custom pieces for clients, he liked to bounce ideas off of Jon, despite his lack of knowledge when it came to art. Jon had, however, become very good at disecting what Martin’s clients wanted from the small briefs that they had given the artist.

‘You know, I’ve wondered for a while, what flower would you give me?’ Jon asked, watching as Martin sketched out a frangipani, the most recent tattoo Georgie had decided on getting, which would match with one Daisy was getting,

It took a moment for Martin to snap out of his zone, looking at Jon blankly for a moment before flipping back in his sketch book to a picture of red flowers.

‘I actually drew this you in mind a few months back,’ Martin explained, passing the book over as he took a sip of his tea. ‘They’re begonias.’

Jon was honestly surprised by the drawing, reading through the notes in the top corner of the page.

Jonathan Sims
Begonia
Meanings
Justice
Peace
Individuality
Communication
Caution
Gratitude

‘The gratitude is mostly from you going to the wedding with me, but also helping me with client designs. I still get asked by Agnes to pass on her thanks whenever she comes in,’ Martin quietly smiled, trying to explain himself.

‘It’s… lovely, Martin.’ Jon passed the book back, and Martin got back to work, asking Jon the occasional question about Georgie or Daisy before the two of them decided to part ways as Jon had to feed The Admiral as Georgie had a date that night, and Martin had a late night appointment to continue a sleeve.

When Georgie got home later that night, she returned to see Jon aggressively researching tattoos again, something he hadn’t done since she got her “no fear” tattoo.

‘What happened?’ she asked, plopping herself next to him on their couch.

‘How’s Daisy?’ he attempted to deflect.

‘She’s great, as usual. Thank you for introducing me. Now, tell me what happened with Martin.’ Georgie gently closed the laptop over Jon’s hands, forcing him to look at her.

Sighing, Jon knew this was another instance that he would not be able to escape Georgie. She just knew how he ticked far too well. ‘He has a tattoo sketched out for me. Has for months…’

‘And you want to get it?’ she continued, already knowing the answer. He nodded, and Georgie took the laptop from him, opening it to the Day’s Eye webpage to help him book the appointment.

It was just a few quick messages, and by opening the next morning, Sasha had booked Jon an appointment for a week later.

Daisy wasn’t sure who was more nervous, Jon or Martin.

That morning, she had gotten her most recent tattoo coloured, and as she and Julia talked, she watched Martin pacing around, disinfecting the arm rest over and over. It would have been amusing if she didn’t know who it was for.

Daisy was Jon’s only friend that was available at that time, given that Georgie was halfway across the country to get an interview for her podcast, and Melanie’s cousin had just gotten back from Rome, and had convinced her friend to get a tattoo done by Melanie, so she had a booking.

An hour before his appointment, Daisy took him for lunch, reminding him that he had to eat. He accused her of trying to feed him up to cook him, to which she responded that he’d barely make a toothpick, fed up or not.

By the time Jon was doing the clearance paperwork at Day’s Eye with Sasha, Melanie’s client was taking a breather, curled over a bucket as Melanie’s cousin held a water bottle and rubbed his back.

‘Hey Jon! You ready to finally join us?’ she asked, leaning over Sasha’s shoulders. ‘Forearm huh? And full colour? I’m proud.’

‘Melanie, we’re good to go here!’ was called from her station, the short man laying back on what looked like a massage bed, his arm on a seperate rest.

‘Well, gotta go finish this dragon, see you later!’ she said, pulling on a new pair of gloves, waving over her shoulder and sitting back in her seat with her tattoo machine with new needles in.

Sasha smiled, checking over the forms before letting Jon through, laughing quietly about seeing Daisy for the second time that day.

Martin was the most nervous person in the shop. Despite doing this for years, he’d never actually known his client before he tattooed them. And even if it was someone he already knew, it wasn’t ever that person's first tattoo.

Cleaning Jon’s forearm was the first time Martin had ever wished someone had gotten one of Gerry’s bad stick and pokes.

‘Okay, that’s the template on, are you happy with the placement?’ he asked robotically, as if he was back to being an apprentice.

It took until the outline of the first flower was done that Jon and Martin managed to calm down enough to get to their usual type of conversation.

Jon mostly drowned out the constant buzzing sounds, and the constant cat scratch like feeling in his right arm. The smell of disinfectant couldn’t be ignored, but it wasn’t too bad once he got used to it.

During those first lines, Daisy distracted Jon from the pain, as while it wasn’t too painful, it was a small shock to the system.

Thickening up the lines, Jon’s arm started to feel tender, as Martin was going over already tattooed skin. Martin noticed the look on his face. ‘Do you need a breather?’

Jon looked over, surprised. ‘No, no, I’m fine, just a bit sore.’

It was hours later that the colour was being added, Daisy having left one the outline was done, leaving Jon and Martin to just be checked up on by the other artists. Agnes came and left, and Melanie’s client threw up a few more times. Gerry stopped by a few times to check how Jon was holding up, up until the end of the tattoo was finished.

On the inside of Jon’s forearm was three red begonias, which Martin wrapped. ‘Alright, so treat it basically as a mix of a sunburn and an open wound. Do not submerge it in water, clean it only with liquid soap, don’t scratch it. Just… read the aftercare sheet, or ask me any questions you have for it. Touch ups are free for the next three months as well,’ he rattled off, walking Jon to the desk where Sasha was dozing off, looking out at the setting sun.

Georgie was sat on the couch in the waiting area, smiling and handing him a bag of lolly snakes. ‘So, how’d you like getting a tattoo?’ she asked after getting in the car.

Jon, sitting in the passenger side seat, looking down at the flowers on his arm, smiled. ‘I think I’m going to get more.’