Red Ink

Part 3 - Exceptions

"There she is."

Y/N stood uncomfortably in the doorway, her arms folded over her chest and a strong glare on her face. She didn't respond. As much as she was able to keep from speaking around him, she did.

The man before her turned to look at her. He had a lit cigarette between his lips— Red hated when he smoked during sessions— and he smiled at her. "Ready, darlin'?"

Red had told him dozens of times not to call her that. It was pointless. He used nearly every term of endearment in the book and it made her sick. He knew she didn't want to be here, and he seemed to get off on making her more uncomfortable.

"I have an appointment later. Your driver needs to take me home before six," Red said firmly. Stand your ground, she told herself. Keep calm.

Dabi shrugged off the ugly black coat he always wore and draped it over the small operating chair before taking a seat. "Fine."

It took a lot to not sigh in relief. It was always 50/50 for if he would listen to her. Thank god he seemed to be in a good mood today.

The feeling of relief was fleeting, because in the next moment he used two fingers to lazily beckon her over to him. "Let's get started."

~~~

Long sessions were normal for large areas of skin, but with Dabi, they were hellish.

On the bright side, she didn't need to use her fancy ink on him. All he wanted was to revitalize the sheets of scar tissue stapled across his body, and that only required her blood solution instead of the ink Mei engineered for her.

It didn't help the nausea, though.

Nearly half of Dabi's body was scar tissue— rough, calloused scar tissue that had turned into a disgusting off-purple over the years. Though he tried, no amount of cologne or smelling salts could overpower the smell of decaying skin. It was revolting, and Red had to fight through it in order to focus. Sometimes she would have to take breaks to gag and heave away from Dabi, fearful of what he'd do if she caught her obvious revulsion.

Then again, he did seem to find it funny when he caught her.

"Stay with me, princess, you've got 3 more hours to go," He said after she turned away to stop herself from vomiting. He had to know how terrible this was for her. "Do we need to go back on our deal?"

"No! No, I can do it," Red argued. Get it together.

It had been about 2 months of this process now. Each Tuesday, a nondescript black car would pull up outside of the parlor to bring her to... whatever this place was. It was impossible for her to know; the driver was instructed to blindfold her as soon as she entered the vehicle, and she wasn't allowed to remove it until she was in the room or else the deal was off.

And she had to follow through with the deal.

Today, Red was making progress on the skin of his shoulder. She let the tattoo gun glide across the scar tissue, keeping her foot down on the pedal to maintain its highest speed. Finished areas took on an almost brownish color after the needles pierced through and injected her blood. Her hand was steady and methodical after years of practice, but that didn't help her need for breaks. In addition to the putrid smell, her back and wrist hurt from the multi-hour sessions. The chair Dabi reclined in was lower to the ground than it should be and it forced her to hunch more than was comfortable.

"How come you didn't go into the medical division? You'd fit right in there, wouldn't ya?" Dabi questioned, a puff of smoke slipping from his lips as he exhaled. "Lovely little healing quirk you've got. Hit the jackpot when I heard aboutcha."