Fox Of Greed (Greedy Fox Book 1)

~~ TWENTY ~~

NOTE: Mildly gruesome in middle

A small bell tinkled above my head and I had to let my eyes adjust in the dark space I had just entered. Incensed smoke hugged the low ceiling, swirling slowly. Faint light spilled from between gaps of a lamp plastered with paper. 

Actually, the whole room was covered in paper. I tread carefully past snarling lions and abstract images, eyes darting over the twisted snakes and flying owls on the walls. So many drawings, so much talent. 

Is there a way to steal artistic talent? 

Someone coughed, a raspy sound, and my head jumped to a short dark man. Actually, scratch that. His skin was pale; it were all the tattoos in the blackest ink that transformed him. Hundreds and thousands of tattoos; or maybe it was just one giant one. 

"Can I help you?" he asked in a deep voice. 

"You the tattoo man?" 

He scowled, tattooed eyebrows drawn together tightly. "Yeah, I'm the Ink Artist. What's a girl like you need in here?" He did not seem pleased now. 

"A tattoo." 

His eyes scoured my body. "Really?" 

I raised my hands in surrender. "Truly." The Ink Artist still didn't believe me. Time to milk it. "It's pay back to my fiance for running off with one of my friends. First step of the ten day play: get a tattoo." 

His eyes bore into mine. I neither flinched nor looked away from them. "Shall I take my money somewhere else?" 

He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards a small bed. I walked over, shaking the piece of paper out. "I have the drawing here." 

"I normally preferred to create my own." 

"Oh." So I went through all that humiliation for nothing back in the tavern? If I had known they liked to create their own, I never would have shown the group my horrendous drawing ability. "Well, I really prefer this one. It represents me more."

With a grunt, he accepted the paper. I sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly nervous. His tools sat on a little table next to us; I hadn't been expecting needles. 

"Colour? Placement?" The man grabbed a red leather stool and dragged it over. 

"Black. Right shoulder blade," I replied in just as many words. My tongue felt heavy. I swallowed and almost choked because of how dry it was. 

What was I getting so worked up about? I was finally going to get a tattoo. 

"I'll need you to remove your shirt, in case the ink spills." I gave him a wide eyed look. "If that is okay with you." 

I nodded and slipped off my top, now only in the crop top Meliodas had gifted me with the other day. To keep my mind off what was to come, I asked, "So do you get many people?" 

"Several each day. The townsfolk, not so much," he sighed as he organised the tubes he needed. "Lie down," he said without looking at me. I did as he asked, now facing a wall with a beautifully drawn tree in a frame. "The days are busy when Holy Knight recruits are sent to Baste Prison to observe and learn the trade. Many, after a good many drinks, stumble their way here on a dare." 

"At least they know they're getting quality work," I praised him. 

He said a gruff thanks then something cold brushed against my shoulder blade. A shiver went through my body and along my hairline. "How big do you want this?"