Doe arrived early, Scout still finishing his five o'clock as Tavish lead the customer to his chair. He was dressed in a different blue button-down this time, but the same hat and sandals. Now that Scout had pointed out the footwear, it was difficult to ignore.

"Alright, see you in a couple weeks big guy," Scout said to his client and closed his case.

Once at the exit, the large man pulled out a hefty tip from his wallet and handed it to Scout with a polite nod. Scout grinned at the tip eagerly, zipping out of the room as soon as hid patron had left. Tavish always wondered about their Russian regular. If he had so much money to toss around, why did he go for one of the cheaper apprentices instead of Tavish? The owner suspected it had more to do with Scout himself than anyone's actual skill level.

"I have a bigger picture now," Doe said, handing Tavish a manila folder.

"You may have a bigger picture, but I have somethin' even better," Tavish responded.

As Doe looked on, Tavish pulled a framed painting from behind his inkstand. It was the eagle, flying beautifully in all its patriotic glory.

"You found it! What…how did…?"

"I remembered what you said a little after you left. There's only one Salvation Army in the area, so I though I'd try it out. Lo and behold, this little beauty was still up for grabs!"

"You did not have to do that," Doe said rubbing the back of his neck.

"Ah, but I did anyway. It's easier tae work from the real thing. And besides, I like tae collect art. You've seen the drawin' room, you ken that."

Doe nodded, glancing shyly between the painting and Tavish.

"Now sit down," Tavish told him. "We got work tae do."

Unbuttoning his shirt, Doe sat comfortably on the chair. He hung the blue top on the armrest, distracted while Tavish pulled out an electric razor.

As he began to cut the brown hair littering Doe's chest, Tavish tried hard not to look at the thick scars formed beneath his fingers. Those sorts of things weren't his business, no matter how curious they were. Instead, he focused on the other tattoos already coating Doe's body; those were always a safe topic.

"Were you in the army?" he asked, noticing the serial number on the inner arm. A common one for service men.

"Yes," Doe replied stiffly.

"Where'd you serve?"

"Iraq. Afghanistan. Everywhere."

Alright, touchy subject. Tavish tried to bring it back to his tattoos.

"That explains this one," he said, tapping Doe's right arm. " 'S a Sailor Jerry. Real common style in the navy, 'n military in general."

The Sailor Jerry was a pinup girl, dressed in stars and stripes with 'USA' hanging above her head. Tavish was starting to see a pattern.

"Yeah, buddy of mine gave it to me. He's dead. Don't ask about him," Doe said before Tavish could even open his mouth. "These ones too. Different buddies. Ones who weren't dead."

On his words, Doe indicated his stomach and other arm accordingly. The tummy tattoo was a shovel with the words "hard to kill" emblazed over it. The arm one wasn't quite as neat: a rather shakily done US logo that had faded to almost nothing.

"So this is your first professional tattoo?"

"Yes," Doe said. His voice was crisp, on the verge of being offended.

"Nae to insult your mates or nothin'. I just want tae ken your experience is all. In fact," Tavish said, tapping Doe's stomach, "this one in particular is pretty impressive."

"Oh. Thanks."

They fell into comfortable silence while Tavish cleaned the skin. As Tavish began to make the first marks with the needle, Scout wandered in to clean up his things.

"Dat was my last appointment for the day," the apprentice reported. "Mind if I go home?"

"Did you clean up the bathroom like I asked?" Tavish said without turning around.

"Uh…yes?"

"Are you lyin' tae me Scout?"

Scout's shoulder's slouched. He dejectedly walked into the back to grab the mop.

"He'd have it a lot easier if he just did things when I asked him," Tavish told Doe disapprovingly.

"He your only apprentice?" Doe asked, staring after the disgruntled young man.

"No, but he's the one who's here the most. The others come a few days a week, but Scout works every day I do, and some I don't. He's also the only one who comes in after two."

"Hm. I guess he's the only one I'll be seeing then. I work 'til four."

"We're open on the weekend too."

"I work 'til four everyday," Doe replied without a hint of emotion.

Jesus. "Where do you work?" Tavish encouraged.

"The power plant. Couldn't find work when I got home, but a buddy of mine said there was an opening out here. He's dead now too. Unrelated. Slipped in the tub."

Tavish was extremely grateful he was looking at Doe's chest and not his face. "Jesus lad. I'm real sorry tae hear that."

"It is okay. It puts bread on the table."

Tavish had meant more about his friend than his sucky job, but Doe didn't seem bothered either way. They spent the rest of their session talking about their respective employments, Doe working fulltime at the plant for the past six years, and Tavish owning his own business. Tavish got the impression Doe was barely getting by, and felt a strange sense of concern. He obviously didn't have a lot of spare cash, so what was he doing blowing six-hundred bucks at an upscale tattoo parlor? But that was a thought Tavish had to keep to himself. It wasn't any of his business what his clients did with their money, especially when it went into Tavish's pocket.

Doe also asked Tavish about his work. Most people lamented about how easy he must have it, making it out like he was living some sort of fairytale and he hated talking about his shop to people like that. It had taken a lot of sweat and tears to build the Eye of the Beholder up from nothing; every permit, inspection, and visa a struggle to make it happen. Doe seemed to get that. It wasn't romantic to him. It was just a job like anything else.

The hour flew by, and Tavish was sad to see it go. The eagle stretched majestically across Doe's chest as he put his shirt back on, much farther along than Tavish expected. Tavish simply worked better when he had a chatty customer.

"Alright, now keep it clean until I see you again. Dunnae want tae ruin all me hard work."

"Understood," Doe replied, but without the formality of his last goodbye. After he had passed from the shop, he gave Tavish an enthusiastic thumbs up from beyond the glass windows.

Tavish grinned. He could do with more patrons like Doe.


"So, ya ask him out yet?"

"I told you before I'll tell you again: I'm nae interested."

"Sure you ain't. Listen pally, I've known you for eight years. I can tell when you're puttin' on the fake smiley face, an' that ain't it."

"Shouldnae you be buildin' some new needles?"

"Hey, I'm askin' the questions here. Is that a 'no' to askin' him out?"

"Yes."

"Good. 'Cause I tell ya, he is not pleasant to look at."

"What? That nae even–How can you tell? You dunnae even like guys."

"I don't have to suck his dick to know you're way out of his league."

"Needles, Scout."

"Yeah yeah. I'm just sayin'."


As the months went on, Doe became more and more comfortable in the studio. He met some of the other regulars, happy to talk with them as well as Tavish. Tavish even managed to broker a temporary truce between him and Scout, something that held as long as Doe wasn't having one of his off days.

"I've been meaning to ask," Tavish said on their second to last appointment, "why do you always dress like that?"

Doe turned his head toward him, a motion Tavish caught in the corner of his eye. They rarely looked at each other when they talked, Tavish focusing on his work and Doe gazing at the ceiling.

"Blue is my favorite color."

Tavish paused a moment before he burst out laughing. "Well it certainly matches your eyes, but that's nae what I meant lad. You're always dressed like you're goin' tae Madrid instead o' Washington. I mean, it's five bloody degrees out right now for Christ's sake!"

Doe raised an eyebrow. "No it isn't. The rain isn't frozen."

"Ach. I mean it's…" Tavish stopped as he tried to remember how to convert things into Fahrenheit. "Ah nevermind. I'm tryin' tae ask about the clothes. You must be from somewhere real bloody cold tae be dressed like that all the time."

"Wisconsin," Doe finally replied. "But got moved to some homes in Michigan too."

"You're a foster kid?" Tavish asked, and Doe nodded.

Shit. Doe really had it tough, an abandoned veteran and now a foster kid too. Not to mention it seemed like every friend he brought up turned out to be dead or institutionalized.

Tavish hesitated. Evenly, he replied, "hey, me too."

"Really?" Doe asked, glancing at him again.

"Aye. Got bobbled around a few places, but I eventually got adopted. Moved tae America when I reconnected with me birth parents, and I've been takin' care o' me Mum in her last couple o' years."

Tavish rarely told anyone about being a foster child. Usually, he just told people the crossing the pond bit.

"I had no idea."

"Yeah, well," Tavish dithered, "I dunnae tell many people. I dunnae like people blammin' her for givin' me up."

"Don't you?"

Tavish faltered again. "I…I dunnae. I mean, I understand why they did it. Nae everyone's cut out for parenthood. But still…tae think I could've had a regular childhood…It's hard nae tae hold ontae a little resentment for that."

"But you still picked her over your other parents," Doe said. Tavish shot him a bitter look. "Family should be who sticks with you, not who you're bound to by blood."

"It's nae like I abandoned them!" Tavish defended. "It's just…she needs me more. My other parents are doin' fine on their own."

Tavish went back to shading the eagle's wing, insulted, but not sure why.

Doe didn't say anything for a while. He was no longer looking at Tavish, instead gazing at the eagle painting off to his left. Distantly, he said, "my first real family was my unit."

Tavish held his breath for a second, waiting for Doe to go on.

"The six of us were closer than brothers. We were all rejects or outcasts, but we had each other and that's what mattered. There's nothing stronger than bonds formed with sweat and spilled blood." He looked down at Tavish. "I am not passing judgment. I am only saying you should remember who is important to you."

Tavish etched a layer of brown into a long feather. "I will. Promise."

Doe returned his attention to the ceiling. Maybe he was regretting sharing so much personal history all at once, or maybe he had said all he wanted to say. Either way, the rest of the hour was spent in silence.

The final session came and went without incident.

The fact that nothing happened was surprising for some reason, like Tavish waiting for a huge announcement, or a sign from God. Instead, the appointment passed like any other, Doe back to his usual self. They talked about nothing of any real substance, chatting as Tavish put the last few details into the flag. While he worked, Scout lurked around the room, pretending to busy himself with various things. If he weren't in such a good mood, Tavish would tell him to piss off.

Finally, the tattoo was finished. As Doe handed the final payment, Tavish stopped short. "Hold on Mr. Doe. I think you may have put a bit extra here."

Doe shook his head. "No, that's the tip."

"You're givin' me a fifty percent tip?"

"Yes, well…" Doe wrung his hands. "The service here has been…extraordinary." He straightened. "Exemplary work deserves an exemplary reward."

Tavish stared at the wad of cash in his hands. "Mr. Doe, I really can't take this-"

"Please," Doe interrupted. "I insist."

Looking between Doe and the tip, Tavish swallowed. "Well, alright then." Money's money after all.

After he pocketed the cash, he reached out for a handshake, which Doe took. "It's been a real pleasure tae have you here at the Eye of the Beholder. Feel free tae come back any time."

Doe shook. "I will. Come back, that is." He opened and closed his mouth like he was about to say more and then thought better of it. "Goodbye Tavish."

"As tae you Mr. Doe."

With the sound of energetic tinkling, Doe departed the parlor. Once the he was sure their gruff customer had left, Scout turned to his boss and shook his head.

"You. Are. Pathetic."