The Tattoo

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This is a narrative I made up while doing the previous drawing. It is NOT canon by any means (yet) and takes place during "Healed."

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"This is a pretty cool design. I'm guessing it spells a word?" The tattoo artist spoke while he carefully traced the patterns along her spine. A prosthetic hid the glowing Cybertronian tech which rested on her lower back, and prevented any other, more concerning, questions from arising.

"Yeah, how did you know?" Dana asked with a smile, resisting the urge to look back and grin at him.

"Well, one of the symbols repeat. But I don't know what language this is in," he raised an eyebrow as he gazed at the design, taking it in before he worked on the final symbol, tracing it. He would go back and fill them in, but for right now he just wanted to get the outlines figured out.

"Its a secret," she winked, her chin resting on her arms. "If you're curious to know what it says, however, it's a name."

"Boyfriend?"

She laughed a little, her eyes sparkling softly. "Not entirely. It's actually kind of hard to say, nowadays. Like, we could be, but its an unspoken thing."

"Why haven't you guys said anything yet?" He asked, curious.

She almost shrugged, then remembered there was permanent ink being shot into her back. "Right now there really isn't a need to," she replied. "And, truthfully, I don't even know if he'd want to be in a relationship. He thinks he's too old for me."

The artist raised an eyebrow, but kept his tone impartial. "What's the gap, if I may ask?"

A couple million years, give or take.

"A little wide," she admitted, "probably too wide, honestly. Definitely wider than the '2 year gap' they're always telling us about in sex ed. Apparently, the wider the age gap, the more likely the relationship could become abusive. But, I also go to school in Jasper; you know, the city out in the middle of nowhere?"

"My sister actually lives up there," the artist mentioned, nodding to indicate he understood exactly where she was talking about. "My niece is probably about your age; and from what I've heard, yeah, that sounds like something a little town in Nevada would teach at their schools."

The young woman laughed again, signaling for the artist to pause a moment as she rearranged herself so that she was comfortable.

"So, you and him must be at least kind of close?" He probed a little more.

"Definitely more than just kind of," she clarified. "It's one of those relationships where the next step seems pretty obvious . . . but like I said, he's got at least one worry holding him back."

"Hey, that's usually a good sign," he pointed out, "he cares enough to think about what is best for you."

"True," she mused.

The artist became silent as he moved up her back and began filling in the outlines, double checking to ensure it was all solid black before he began. The needle stung slightly as it pierced her skin and deposited ink there, but she didn't flinch or make any indications that it hurt. She had felt worse pain in the past.

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