Ryan's Arseknal Tattoo.
The tattooist looks up as the bell over the door jingles, heralding the hesitant entrance of the young lad. He looks over the boy – shaven headed, trying to be all grown up and hard but scared underneath. Probably underage.
The tattooist puts down his book and gives the lad the eyeball.
"I've got ID," the lad says, before the tattooist can get a word out.
"I'm not underage. I just wanted to ask... can you do anything about this?"
He pulls up his sleeve, showing off the poorly executed scrawl on his bicep.
"Arseknal," the tattooist reads aloud, enunciating the 'k.'
"Who did this piss-poor excuse for ink?"
The lad looks sheepish.
"I was on holiday. Seemed like a good idea, but..."
He trails off. The tattooist shrugs.
"I can fix it up, but it's never gonna look good. Your best bet is a total cover-up, something new."
"Yeah, that's what I wanted to ask."
The lad looks uncomfortable, won't meet the tattooist's eyes.
"I want it to say 'Alex' instead."
The tattooist frowns.
"You're throwing over your team for a girl? Not sure I should be a part of this, son."
"She was my sister."
The tattooist notes the past tense, that the lad is struggling to keep a brave face, and he understands.
"Aye? Well then. Why don't you come out back and have a look at some sketches. See what we can do."
The lad nods, rubbing at his eye.
The tattooist pushes aside the beaded curtain in the doorway of the back room, ushering the young man through.
He doesn't see the front door open and close again, as if someone were leaving the shop, even though nobody's there.
Disclaimer: Not, no mine, etc, etc, apart from me wondering what Ryan would do with a mis-spelled tattoo.
And yes, ghost Alex could Rentaghost out of the shop, but I thought this was more poignant.