The continual buzzing rattled his skull, a dog whistle to a disruptive mutt. He had cut eyes at the unfolding event and overdose of testosterone stewing in a conglomerate of Liza's younger members. Scratch that, some of them were older than he was or what he estimated was. A shift in movement snapped him to the source, the young woman with more collected sense then the lot over there dealing in needles and ink.
"What?" Heine uttered in boredom unable to dismiss Naoto's long stare of him.
"You were watching them."
"So?"
"Do you have one?"
"One what?"
"Tattoo."
Nonexistent eyebrows arch with a silent what passing his lips. His appearance left to suggestion he would get into the sort of thing, but he was not. It was strange and brash of her like any engagement of small talk.
"No, I don't."
"Did you ever want one?" Her head was tilted and hair falling to the side as if she was considering the subject matter serious. He was familiar with the look, too familiar by the muted laugh in the back of his head at the sight.
"Can't." One word answer with details left in implication.
"Wasn't sure if you were the type, but I suppose it doesn't matter." Her attention turned from him to the laughter and grunt of pain from the group. "I don't like them. They mark you." She was off and away before he can ask what she meant or thought to ask. The few words left him baffled and the rattling of skull returned placing him back into frustration.
Another drabble request by a friend. Far shorter than the last one, but I feel like addressing it again in the future from the unused ideas. Again, anyone is welcome to prompt me from a word, quote, picture, song, kink, and so forth and so on.
