willow | d. hale [on hold]

20 | ephemeral

don't worry, scotty. i can give you the money back for the tattoo.

[ 3.01 ]

"Boy, it's a good thing you drew me a picture," the tattoo artists muttered sarcastically.

Willow, Scott, and Stiles found themselves in a tattoo shop, and the tattooist was less than impressed with the drawing that Scott gave him for reference. It resembled an equal sign with the top line much thicker than the bottom.

Scott smiled sheepishly at the man, his sleeve rolled up as he sat in the chair, ready to begin.

"Hey, Scott, sure you don't want something like this?" Stiles asked. He held up one of the art books that showed a drawing of a monstrous lizard creature that resembled the kanima. Both Scott and Willow gave him disapproving looks. "Too soon? Yeah. I don't know, man, are you sure about this? I mean, these things are pretty permanent, you know?"

"I'm not changing my mind," Scott told him.

"Okay, but why two bands?" he asked.

"I just like it," he said, shrugging.

"But don't you think your first tattoo should have some sort of meaning, you know, or something?" Stiles questioned. "Wills said hers has meaning even though she won't tell us what it is. Or where it's at."

Stiles playfully narrowed his eyes at Willow. Willow, as an early birthday present to herself, decided to get a tattoo with Scott. She had gone first, wanting to get it over before she inevitably chickened out. In doing so, she made both Scott and Stiles leave the room, and Stiles had done nothing but complain about it the whole time.

"Getting a tattoo means something," Scott stated. The actual action meant more than the two bands.

"I don't think that's—"

"He's right," the tattoo artist said, taking a seat next to Scott. "Tattooing goes back thousands of years. The Tahitian word "tatua" means "to leave a mark." Like a rite of passage."

"Yeah, you see? He gets it," Scott said, nodding.

"He's covered in tattoos, Scott, literally," Stiles pointed out.

"Okay, you ready?" the tattooist asked Scott, who nodded. "You ain't got any problems with needles, do you? The little lady went through half a box of tissues crying."

"Nope," Scott assured him.

As the tattooist began working on Scott, Stiles peered over his shoulder to watch. "I tend to get a little squeamish though, so..."

Stiles trailed off as he fainted suddenly. Willow sighed before crouching down and propping his back up against the wall. Really, if she of all people could put up with getting a tattoo without fainting, then Stiles should at least be able to watch — he had certainly seen gorier things.