lit a fire in your head, standing with a flower in her hair

Bea flipped through her Spotify playlist aimlessly as she walked down the crowded street, skipping song after song until she came upon one that matched the rhythm of her steps. The lyrics could have mattered less to her at the moment, what mattered was the beat, the sound, the feeling of the music as it moved through her, and she through the world. She was a little nervous and a little sleepy, having stayed up the night before after closing to go over some last minute ideas to talk over with the tattoo artist she was meeting with today. Sundays were the one day a week her store was closed, and though she'd been able to sleep in, her innate connection with the sun had her awake pretty much at dawn anyway, so her ass was dragging. She'd been raised prim and proper, taught by her parents that inking her skin was tantamount to graffiti, but now that they had moved upstate, her repressed rebellious streak began to show and the first step in that direction was getting a tattoo.

She hummed as she walked, more in her head than aware of her surroundings, and let out a startled yelp as she reached for the door to the tattoo parlor only to find it already open and her groping the lower-stomach region of a man as he exited. Blood rushed to her face as she began to profusely apologize, eyes squeezed shut. "I'm so sorry," she said, scrambling back to give the man space to leave. "I wasn't paying attention. I'm so sorry!"

Bea watched in stunned silence as the man just casually walked away, unable to comprehend being so laid back in such an awkward situation. Finally, when the woman inside began to speak to her she quickly closed the door behind her and walked over to the desk covered with all sorts of designs. "Uh, yeah. I'm Bea - Beatrice, I mean." Her eyes tracked everything around the shop, from the desk to the laptop to the chairs and tables. "You're Emeline, then?" She tucked her hair behind her ear and sat down, clasping her hands somewhat nervously in front of her.

"This'll be my first tattoo, but I'm sure you could tell that already." She gave a nervous chuckle and turned her attention to some of the papers scattered about in an attempt to turn the attention away from her. "I've already read some stuff on the internet about tattoos, but I was hoping this consult would help me make the right choice. I-I don't wanna rush into this, y'know?"

The way Emmy carried herself spoke to her confidence which, in turn, seemed to rub off on Bea, much to her benefit. She skimmed over Emmy's own tattoos while the latter began to place bottles of water in front of her. "A tea'd be nice, if you have any. If not, water is perfectly fine." She offered Emmy a small smile as she leaned over the papers presented to her, skimming them with her fingers as she paged through them. She saw that many of the designs had a floral inspiration to them and her appreciation for Emmy's art began to grow even more than when she'd first stumbled across her portfolio online.

She sat a few pages off to the side, deciding against them, when she paused on one of the designs. It was somewhat different from the rest, made of more smooth lines with two leaves on either side of a blooming begonia. Though the art was only a line sketch and still uncolored, Bea felt a connection with it. The mirrored leaves were symmetrical but not, and the round central flower was simple without being plain.

"This one is nice," she said after a minute or so of silent contemplation. She tucked her hair behind her ear when it fell in her face again and gave an annoyed huff. "I actually want a lot more tattoos after this one," she explained with a sheepish grin. "I know I seem super indecisive, but it's some unresolved parental shit I'm sure you don't care to hear about. I'm absolutely in love with your art, though. This piece in particular really speaks to me. Would you be able to color it in later, or is it only a line drawing?"

"Early Gray is perfect," smiled Bea as she grasped the cup in both hands, soaking up its warmth as the tea steeped. She considered Emmy's question for a minute, lifting the paper and experimentally testing the tattoo's current size on various parts of her body. "I'm actually not too sure where I'd want it," she finally admitted, sitting it down. "On the one hand, I really like the way it looks with just the lines, but on the other hand I'm all for color whenever I get the chance..."

She trailed off and looked more closely at Emeline's own tattoos, crawling up her arm like an almost living thing. She seemed so comfortable in her body - why couldn't Bea feel the same way? She pulled thoughts back in and took a sip of her tea, pulling back when it was still too hot. "I, ah, I think I'll get it on my forearm, if you don't think it's too tender for a first tattoo?" Something about the design called to her, and she knew she would want to be able to see it whenever she desired, so putting it somewhere out of sight wouldn't work.

"How did you decide to do this as a career?" asked Bea curiously, looking around at the shop with admiration. "I mean, you get to draw on people for a living - what could be better? I mean, you do have a few people like me that are ignorant as the day is long, but I can imagine that your job is generally quite fun, right?"

"Yeah, that would be great," replied Bea, blushing slightly when Emmy mentioned her 'tattoo virginity'. "I think I'd like to start with just a line drawing, and then color it in later if I decide to." She pulled her arm back as Emmy traced where her tattoo would go, the skin there sensitive and ticklish. "I'm not a wimp," she said, prefacing her next statement that sounded quite wimpy. "How badly will this hurt? Like on a scale of one to ten?" 

She glanced between the stencil and her arm, trying to imagine what it would look like permanently inked onto her skin. The design called to her and just felt...right. Like it belonged. But her hypercritical brain quickly jumped in to squash any instinctive feelings, suggesting the myriad of ways this could backfire and end up being more trouble than it was worth. Though it was difficult, she ignored it and looked up at Emmy, waiting for her answer. 

ooc ;; sorry my reply is so short i'm running low on creative juices right now :c

The allegory Eme offered didn't do much to assuage Bea's anxiety, but she did return the smile with a nervously excited one of her own.  She took a seat on the tattooing chair, the clear plastic lining it crinkling under her weight. She laid her head back and closed her eyes, gathering her nerves, before putting her arm on the rest for Eme to lay the stencil on. 

"I'll let you know if it gets to be too much so we can break," she said, glancing sideways as Eme began to get her implements set up and ready. "I'm honestly not too bad with pain - I work in a flower shop and you'd be surprised how many times I've drawn blood from a rose thorn or slipped scissors. I'm not the most dexterous." She chuckled at her own expensive, showing Eme her left hand which was riddled with light scars from mostly harmless accidents.

"Anyway, I'm actually really curious about your shop. You're pretty young - around my ageish if I had to guess. How did you get a tattoo shop to yourself already? Are you and that guy I accidentally groped in business together?"

Bea jumped slightly when the blade first made contact on her arm, but soon settled down and looked at Eme's face while she worked. There was a quiet concentration there, a sort of self-assurance that she knew what she was doing and was good at it. It was really something to see. Bea blushed when she realized she'd been staring and quickly moved her gaze away, falling on a sagging potted plant standing in the corner of the room.

"I can tell," she laughed, nodding to the sad fern. "Poor thing just needs some fresh soil and food. He'd perk up in a couple of days tops with that. It's not that you don't have a green thumb - you just don't know quite what to do. Plants aren't too different from people, but just different enough that it's not entirely intuitive when it comes to knowing what they need." It was clear Beatrice could talk for hours about plants and deliberately shut herself up there, eyes sparkling as she made mental plans about how to save the fern.

She was pulled back to reality when Eme explained about her situation, feeling bad she'd made her uncomfortable. "I can't believe you're only an apprentice," she said in a rush, looking down at the purple trace on the bottom of her arm. "It's perfect," she said, turning her arm from side to side to look at the entire design. "It's a perfect size, I think. Not too be to be intrusive but not tiny either. I'm totally happy with this!"