Empty Gold - {ryden}

3. Amour-Propre

3.  a·mour pro·pre (noun)  a sense of one's own worth; self-respect.

"I'm sorry," Sarah cut in from behind them, a hand rested against her forehead and her eyes squinted shut, "did you just tell this kid, someone who has never tattooed an actual person, to put a needle with permanent ink into your skin!? Are you fucking crazy?"

"It's an initiation, Sarah," Brendon deadpanned, finishing the set-up of the station before turning to her. "All of you had initiations, this sin't any different."

Sarah throws up her hands and marches toward the employee's lounge, not sparing anyone another glance as the door slammed behind her. Brendon shook his head, turning to look at Ryan with a blinding smile. "Well, c'mon, Ryan," he said, motioning toward the chair in front of him. "Let's see what you can do."

Ryan flushed a bright red as he made eye contact with Brendon for a second before looking around the room at all of the eyes peering back at him. He looked to Brendon once more before nodding gently and jerking a thumb back in the direction of the man's office. "I-I need to go get my bag first," he stuttered out softly. "It has my machine in it and stuff."

Brendon nodded and shooed him off back toward his office, watching Ryan disappear through the metal door. Once inside, Ryan allowed himself to breathe. This couldn't actually be happening. His test to decide if he could work in this tiny, popular parlor in the smaller east side of Los Angeles was to tattoo the freaking owner? This has to be some kind of joke. He was so lost in his thoughts he almost didn't hear the metal door opening, but he turned around to see a boy about his age with white blonde hair smiling brightly at him as he entered the room. "I-I'll be out in a minute," he said nervously.

The boy in front of him closed the door and walked over toward him. "It's okay. I promise I'm not as bitchy as Sarah is," he said with a light laugh. "Actually, none of the rest of us are. I'm Patrick, but everyone calls me Patty, so you can, too."

Ryan looked down at the boy's outstretched hand and slowly lifted his own to take it and shake gently. "Ryan Ross," he said quietly.

Patty laughed in what sounded like small relief. "Thank God you gave me your last name," he said with another laugh. "We have another Ryan out there, and it would get annoying pretty quickly to be like 'Ryan, no the other one,' you know?" Ryan smiled lightly as he took his hand back and started to pull his machine and needles and ink from his carrier bag. "You know," Patty continued as Ryan gathered his things, "Brendon's never let any of us tattoo him. He must really see something in you to let you tattoo him when you've never done it before."

Ryan sent Patty a small look of surprise before he spoke. "I've practiced on, like, mannequins and fruits and stuff," he said softly. "I was just always afraid I would tattoo something on someone and they would hate it. Which, I guess doesn't really make sense since that's what I'm trying to learn, but."

Patty nodded. "I understand," he replied. "I'm sure everyone's been nervous when they tattooed their first actual person. I know I was, for sure. But, if Brendon is trusting you enough to put needle to skin, then I wouldn't be second guessing yourself. I think you're going to do great."

Ryan smiled at him, feeling a sense of pride swell in his chest as he nodded and headed for the door. Once he walked back out onto the show floor, he was met with every pair of eyes in the room looking back at him. He breathed out softly, feeling Patty clap him on the back reassuringly before going back to join the rest of his group.

Ryan then headed over to where Brendon was seated and set all of his tools on the table Brendon had cleared for him, sitting down in the empty chair across from him. He pulled on a pair of black, latex gloves before starting to assemble his machine. He adjusted the barrel to where it needed to be, slipped in the needle and secured the grommet, plugged in the footswitch and power supply and then turned to look at Brendon. "What do you want me to do?"

Brendon seemed thoughtful as he pondered what should be permanently embedded into his skin before chuckling softly and shrugging his shoulders. "Give me something classy," he said with a wide smile. "Give me a fucking rose or something. But, don't make it basic. Alter it. Make it yours. Show me your creativity."

Ryan thought it over for a moment before nodding and uncapping his bottle of black ink and pouring it into a small ink cup. He picked up his machine and took another deep breath before stepping softly against the footswitch, feeling the vibrations of the gun resonate through his entire arm. He dipped the needle into the cup of ink and then went about his task to tattoo Brendon's forearm. As soon as the needle touched Brendon's skin, Ryan began to lose himself in the project. Brendon wanted a rose, he was going to get the best rose he'd ever seen in his life. Ryan would make sure of it.

Brendon only made small glances at the tattoo Ryan was doing, but mostly spent the whole time making conversation with his group of artists, who - by this point - had taken it upon themselves to scoot closer to the work station to watch what Ryan was doing. Ryan paid them almost no attention as he continued his line work. After finishing the outline, he cleaned up around the area and smeared some A&D ointment around the partial tattoo as he went to change out his needle to a shading needle. He had a distinct vision in his mind as he put the shading needle against Brendon's skin and began detailing the bases of the petals and outstretched leaves on the moderately sized rose, his nerves from earlier almost completely forgotten.

An hour and some odd minutes later, Ryan was finished with the tattoo and was cleaning it up so Brendon could check the finished product for himself. He smeared more A&D ointment over the tattoo and decided against wrapping it in plastic wrap so Brendon - and everyone else - could get a good look at it. He waited nervously for a reaction, fiddling with the disassembled pieces of his machine before looking up and seeing - what he was hoping to be - pleased looks on everyone's faces. His eyes met Patty's, who gave him a subtle thumbs up, before he turned to meet Brendon's gaze, which seemed to be picking him apart like a science experiment. He didn't know how to take that.

Luckily, he didn't have to say anything and neither did Brendon as the small girl with white blonde hair spoke up with a wide, beaming smile spread across her face. "Holy shit," she exclaimed softly. "That's fucking sick!"

Ryan felt the tips of his ears burn as everyone else started letting out their small bouts of praise at his work. He was still waiting in anticipation for Brendon's response and he felt himself growing just as nervous as he was when he first entered the parlor at the lack of it. Eventually, Brendon cleared his throat and fully turned to look at Ryan. "Could you stand up, please?"

Ryan scrambled to his feet, careful not to nudge the work table or anything around him, because the last thing he needed was to be paying to replace a bunch of expensive tattoo equipment when he was practically broke. He held Brendon's gaze for what felt like years before Brendon broke into a wide grin and shot his hand out happily. "Welcome to the Empty Gold family, Ryan," he said as Ryan took his hand and shook it gently. "I think you're going to fit in great here."