"Hey Bella. Bella. Bella. Bella. Hey Bella."
Bellatrix Lestrange's hooded eyes flicked open, in the dark of the cell shared between them.
"What?"
Sirius Black swung his smuggled-in-wand from his fingertips as he trailed toward her bed, kicking at the end of her ball gown that was draping off of the edge.
"Do you want a lower-back tattoo?"
Sirius pulled up a nearby wooden chair, with just three legs, settling on to it and resting his chin in his hand imploringly.
"The Dark Lord once told me he really fancied witches with lower-back tattoos."
"Yes."