Paint Over my Scars

Chapter 2

It was a dull summer morning. 

The sky held no expression and cast upon a grey atmosphere. People walked across the sidewalk, hurrying to work with beverages in their hand and their face blank. Gilbert felt the rotating fan hit his face, blowing his white hair in the wind. He flipped to the next page in his book and put his feet up on his desk. 

Mornings were never busy, everyone walked past his shop as though it was nothing. It was boring for him, even worse when he finished a book and was forced to read it several times or when he attempted to text any of his friends but never receiving a text back. 

His favorite time was night, when either the drunks came in with a drunken wish for a tattoo or when middle age women come in with the urge to get a small flower as a tramp stamp and nervously asked many questions about it. His favorite was teenagers came in and rebelliously demand a tattoo. While smirking, he'll usher them out and laugh once they are thrown out on the streets. 

He glanced at the ground. He noticed the dust gathering up at the corners of the walls though Arthur, the manager, mopped the floors last week grumpily like always. Matthew, the actual receptionist, was supposed to be the receptionist and be the one who sat in this chair, but he was out buying donuts for everyone (Alfred's request) because of the extremely slow day. 

The manager, Arthur, was outside smoking while Alfred, another tattoo artist, settled the whole place up after he turned the 'Open' sign. It was a pretty typical day. 

The only thing that caught Gilbert off was when he glanced over, expecting people walking pass, but he saw a girl run across the street, clinging to an Alpaca. He heard a faded honk over the loud music and the girl jump up in surprise, racing across the street.He noted another girl, holding another Alpaca with one arm like she tried to hide it with her arm, yelling from the cross-walk. She harmlessly walked across the cross-walk once it turned green.    

"I'm so excited!" He heard the first girl cheer through the glass windows and doors. And the other mumbled something that he couldn't pick up. 

He was even more shocked when they both walked in. They weren't the usual clients, most either had a sleeve of tattoos or were a person you could see with many. These women both looked absent-mindedly around the store, one with her eyes wide and she absorbed the whole place while the blonde one observed the place like she needed to know everything about it. 

"Hello!" Gilbert pleasantly greeted, setting his book aside and stood up. 

"I really want a tattoo, but my friend doesn't think you guys are going to be clean." She rushed her words out like a waterfall. Gilbert wasn't expecting such a rapid sentence.  

The blonde one blushed deeply at being thrown under the bus and mumbled an objection, "I just want to be safe." 

"You don't think we are clean?" Gilbert challenged the girl, smirking and watched her face turn bitter. 

"I said that I just want to make sure." 

"We're safe don't keep worrying," He replied, waiting until her reaction. He was surprisingly entertained by her doubt.   

"How can I be sure?" 

Gilbert grinned at her fight and while raising an eyebrow, he told her, "How bout you take a look around?" 

She didn't wait to speak, "Fine, I will." She stepped closer to him, "Where is the tattoo room? And artist?" 

"I'm right here!" 

The other girl who remained silent, watching them interact, "Have any tattoos?" 

Gilbert raised his hoodie sleeves, revealing black and white tattoos. He was amused by the girl's reaction that acted as though she saw a pig fly. "I have more." He winked at the other one who first deeply blushed and then recoiled in hate.