The First Age

Bored? That was a new. Boredom didn't breed the need to alter his body. Though boredom did send him after strange things at times. He might actually have to go check these tunnels out again. The reports the traitor and his partner submitted sounded weird. And useful.

"It wasn't a game." There really was nothing to blow, he wasn't here to get anything but information. "I really did come here to talk to the tattoo artist about a girl who fell in with a bad crowd. Just not my sister." Jerry grinned at the man, but before long they were interrupted by a girl. A very perky girl who was unashamed of her body. Exactly the type of person who'd come to a place like this. Jerry admired her despite the tattoo artists suggestion otherwise.

"Precisely why we are here." Jerry gave the girl an award winning smile. "Though...." Jerry leered openly since she was being so derogatory about things anyway. "I might be tempted away..."

Jerry offered his hand. "Jerry. I'd introduce my friend, except I don't know his name."

The worldwind that entered the shop drowned out all conversation. Or at least stifled it, rain and wind to subdue. A ghost of a smile touched Beto's lips.

Honest.

It was rather refreshing, for all its rarity. Or rather, because of it. The tattoo artist's comments quirked his lips up more, both for the clear tease as well as the clear disinterest.

Not that Beto was repulsed. But neither was he enticed. Beauty as an aesthetic was something he perceived with his mind. The elegance of a logical argument, the deft manipulation of law, the poetic flow of a proof. There was a profound sense of beauty to be found in its practice.

But to physically possess it was unnecessary. Or to appreciate it as such.

The man- Jerry- played along, purposefully oogling. Well, she had to expect to be looked at, presenting herself in that manner. She had counted on it.

And Beto was bored.

The artist finished, wiping off the freshly worked on skin with towels, applying salve and then spraying on the nuskin protection. The man looked saddened to leave now that a show had arrived.

"I'm Beto." The smile he gave her was on the warmer side- but not too warm. He looked over her work. "Impressive."

To the artist. "The gentlemen was ahead of me. But when he is done, I would like some work done." He'd adopted an easy manner, glancing at her and winking. "A kitten on my shoulder."

Ana laughed at Sergei and pouted at being demoted.  He’d get no sass from her though, it was his shop after all...well his NOW.  Oh, Lucas.  It would be in very poor taste to talk trash in front of customers anyway.  Ana just wasn’t that kind of girl.  She disappeared briefly behind the counter to retrieve her tank top and tugged it on like nothing at all had happened.  No bra though because honestly, the girls needed to breathe.  If she had a dime for every bra she’d left in this shop…

A polite expression met the menfolk and as a student of human nature, she took note of their very different reactions.  It was her own private game but it had gotten her through college and beyond.  Kept life interesting outside work too.  Subject A exhibited a standard reactionary response and was enabled by her own permissive behavior.  Subject B on the other hand...would require further study.  Damn if she wasn’t wearing her glasses too.  Otherwise she’d be able to see if his pupils had even dilated.  Hmm.  Well.

She offered a pretty smile and shook Jerry’s hand girl-style.  “I’m Ana.  So you two aren’t dating then?  And not partners because really you look like, good cop, bad cop.”    Now, strike one was the scruffy facial hair.  “My bad.”  Of course one strike was not enough to kick you out of the game but stray hairs in the mouth or tickling your face in the moment...that was distracting.  And she couldn’t see his upper lip.  In any case, it was hard to argue with the umpire when you didn’t know a man’s personal hygiene habits.  Maybe he’d be here long enough to have to pee.  The soap here was pink.  Why was she thinking about baseball?  “I’ll come back to you in a moment, dear, although it looks like you're up.”

Science distracted her.  “Bay-toe.”  She regarded the man; an interesting specimen.  “Ana.”  Sure she’d just told Jerry but why did he get her name and Beto get the dregs?  He admired her work.  She smiled at the complement.  “Why, thank you!”  Her eyes flashed flirtatiously at the man’s double entendre.  That’s more like it!  “Sweetie," she made a disappointed sound with her lips.  "That’s not where a kitten goes.”  

Sergei smiled to himself as he finished Pavel's work. Ana had found some attention. Goatee was rather attractive. He seemed to lose some of his stiffness. For Ana, of course. Sergei rolled his eyes. Lambs.

Still, Ana pouting was a perk. He liked her. Mostly. For a drama queen. Bored so easily. Flitting for this to that. Seeking ever new excitement. She was tolerable in small doses.

Suitably chastened, she pulled her tank top back on. Poor Pavel seemed to deflate, and left soon after. Show was over. Sergei left her to the other guy. The Suit.

He stripped off his gloves and went to Goatee. Yeah. Definitely attractive with that set jaw that hinted at a smile. And those brown eyes. Exuded masculinity. Sergei's eyes were distant, but not unfriendly. "How can I help you?"

Jerry wasn't sure who was the good cop and who was the bad cop? There wasn't really any real logic to it so Jerry just shrugged as the tattooist came over to the counter.

"I only want to talk to you, about your former partner's friends. Most specifically, " Jerry pulled out a picture from his inside breast pocket of his leather jacket and turned it to face the man. The picture was a security footage image taken from the Baccarat Mansion before it was burnt to the ground. Not the same day but the building would be missed. "this one. He's been in here for some work." Jerry pulled up his sleeve and showed the man. "Something like this, a dragon I think." His was simple circle of a snake eating it's own tail, but so was the boys, though a dragon - a family emblem.

Beto smiled as if it was no matter. It wasn't after all. The PI- that's what he was no matter what he wanted to call himself- settled into questioning the artist.

Which was fine. Except Beto was now stuck with the girl. Ana. Still, instincts took over. Survival. Only at home did he drop all pretense and relax. Could he relax. He would have to wait. The need to feel the needle, to feel the slight tearing as the metal penetrated and retreated from his skin....he felt a hunger. It had been a long while.

Ana had put her shirt on. Chastened. A small smile played on his lips. Children. He adjusted. "Oh? I suppose that's true." He decided on a persona. Idle. Bored. Hopefully the artist would be done soon. "You'll have to show me where you put yours." A wink. He wasn't really interested in her response.

He smiled at his cleverness as he removed his jacket. He didn't see any private rooms. Not that he'd have a problem removing his pants for the work on his calf. No one knew him here either. He unbuttoned his sleeves, massaging his arms, inadvertantly revealling the massive sleeves that normally spent their time hiding.

"What are you here for?"

With Scruffy and Sergei deep in conversation, Ana turned her full attention on Beto.  She actually thought he was playing hard to get until he basically ended the game before she’d even really started playing.  Show him where to put it?  Ana smiled, a bit knocked off pace.  “I guess that’s settled then.  Your place or mine?”  

She ogled his arms.  Sleeves of ink in intricate colorful patterns, sexy tribal pieces begged for her to touch them.  “Bey-to,” she purred.  “If you show any more skin, I’m not going to be held responsible for what I’m going to do to you later.”  Holy shit he was turning her on.  What a fine specimen!  “Clearly I’m here for you.”  Too bad she’d have to wait until after Sergei was done with him.  Then again, that would only turn her on more.  This was going to be a fun day!  

Sergei only partly listened to the guy's question. Inwardly, he was rolling his eyes. Ana. Good god, she was crazy. In here all of five minutes and already coming on to the guy hard. The guy had nice work- what he could see from his forearms anyway, So maybe he wasn't a complete rube.

Still, Ana would drag him on a merry chase, he was sure. Most men would take her flirting at face value and start thinking with their dicks. They'd find she didn't always mean what she said. Or that she did mean it and then changed her mind. Boring killed it for her. She was crazy. Like, grab-a-cop's-gun crazy. They only came to after they got arrested, their wallets already floating down a storm drain.

It was funny, though, he had to admit.

But to the cute guy with the beard, he answered, "Yeah, I remember that face," he said with a smile. The guy had a way about him. Well mostly. He laughed, partly at the memory, and partly because he missed his friend. "He was scared of the needle. Afterward, Lucas I wondered if he had lost a bet or something. Was a simple piece too. Didn't have his friends with him, though, which usually happens with that."

He looked at the guy, giving him a friendly smile. He didn't mind talking. It was nice to remember. And it wasn't like he knew the guy or owed him anything. And if it meant he got to spend time a bit more with the man...well, that was ok too. Very ok. "Only in here the once, I think. No. Wait. Another time too. Think he was sort of friends with Lucas. Well, his girlfriend, anyway." He waved his hand. "It was all a thing. Not poly, though."

Yeah right, he thought sarcastically. Lucas and Aria had been hot and heavy. Like serious. Poor guy was trying to save her or something. He always was trying to save someone. He could practically feel the connection between them when she hung around the shop while Lucas worked. And he got intense. He only mentioned it once or twice to Sergei. There was definitely an odd vibe about the guy and his relationship to Aria. At least, Lucas seemed a bit put off by it.

Beto gave a small laugh. A trouble maker. And a flirt. Probably had men falling over themselves thinking she was easy.

And maybe she was. But probably not. She was all about the drama. Still, one had to play the social game. It wasn't exactly taxing, faking it. He rather imagined it as a version of ESL. Emotion as a Second Language. Be too cold and people didn't open up. They didn't trust you. Making deals became more difficult. Rising through the ranks became harder.

So he had to imagine what it felt like, to be in someone else's skin. 

The term was an interesting one. He'd actually had a case like that once. It had only served to reinforce his stranglehold on himself, once he'd learned the reasoning. Because this defendant had somehow deluded himself into thinking this this was how to do it. He was honestly seeking some sort of connection to someone outside himself. To feel.

It had shocked him to his core. And he remembered trying to feel when Mami had died. And the realization he couldn't. And it had bothered him that it hadn't bothered him. Very atypical. And then he remembered Jeffrey Dahmer and his desire to keep people with him forever. He didn't want them to leave leave him. Ever. Which he did in the most literal fashion possible.

Statistically, they were outliers. But they were a warning sign, all the same.

He'd have to content himself with ESL.

And so he adopted a flirty banter with Ana. But not as if he were some pathetic man thinking he had a sure thing lined up. He knew better. Nor was he interested

Cooly, he said "Then I suggest you find a seat. Because the work I am getting is on my very tight ass."  Mysteriously, he added, "If you are good- and quiet- I may...may let you watch. But I can't be held responsible for happens to you when I drop trou."

The artist's head whipped to him, shock in his eyes. Unexpected, obviously. Of course, the man had tattooed hundreds of asses and breast, as well as other even more intimate areas. It went with the job. Beto, however didn't look the kind, he was sure. He gave the man a reserved smile and then looked back at Ana. Of course, he was lying. It was his calf he was getting worked on.

Jerry made note of the needle fear. It was an odd one, and something that he could use later. If he ever caught the traitor. At least the man remembered him, not that it mattered too much, it was a long shot. "Have you seen her at all since Mr. Andreff passed? She's missing, and I think he had something to do with it." That might put a fire under the man, or it might not. Again it didn't mattered. Jerry didn't care much for the girl, though she was missing, and there was a rumor around that she'd been killing Atharim. Not a surprise really. He'd met her once in training. Anyone at the Vatican met her at least once - hard to miss the furia who was kept under lock and key. If only for them to gawk.

He hadn't meant to be listening to the conversation next to him, but it was always good to know what was happening around you. The suit wearing man seemed to change demeanor easily and Jerry turned suddenly to look at him as he spoke about tight asses and dropping trou. Who.... He blinked before he caught himself staring.

Jerry hoped it hadn't been too noticeable when he returned his attention to the other man, Jerry cleared his throat, unsure of what had just happened before he spoke again. "You wouldn't happen to have a last known address for him, or her?" Jerry tapped the picture of Durante. It was asking for a lot. He knew that he had no warrant, he wasn't a cop, this man didn't have to cooperate. A big smile and a hopeful look in his eyes, Jerry could only hope friendly might work.