Chapter 26s: Pride & Prejudice

This will be the fourth time.

But this time, it is different.

The first time, I entered here under duress. I have to fight for Nii-san.

The second time, I entered here because she left me no choice. I am not a wussy crybaby!

The third time, I wandered without a choice. Fake-mom was being so embarrassing, going on impressing boys and what kinds of earrings are popular right now... I just wanted to die.

Didn't she understand the only reason I came back with Jenny was because she goaded me?! I really did not come for the jewelry, although Jenny had been eyeing several of the shiny things as possible means to waste her accumulated earnings on.

She's been doing a paper route since the last few months. If she hadn't been buying me the occasional jawbreaker, I would have already yelled at her to stop flaunting those coins and bills like some sort of tacky heiress that Scrooge McDuck would hang out with.

Oh well. I don't care what Jenny wastes her money on; I supposed she earned it herself like I earned those jawbreakers by folding the occasional paper animal for her. She even got me two last week when I coloured that lion for her; she really liked that one.

What I do care about right now is.. mustering the courage to enter there.

Alone.

I take a deep breath and wander over, pushing the door open. The ever-present music pulses and booms into my body; it isn't loud or anything, but it is a very definite presence that makes one feel either alive or possessed... my feelings and brain aren't quite in agreement on that issue!

Ah. There's one of the hellspawn. The worst one. Okay, he is a person just like she is, but first impressions just stick, you know? It isn't like they aren't to blame, looking like they left some movie set about the occult whenever I come in.

"Ah. Setty! Came in alone this time, I see!"

That booming voice is immediately recognisable, even if I haven't spoken to him much. It screams 'manly man' as if to compensate for having been given such a timid name.

Instinctively I try finding the more inviting one of the two, Cassandra. Timothy and all those muscles of him combined with those red eyes? They just give me the heebiejeebies and I'd rather not hang with him.

Dang. I can barely see Cassandra's back through one of the open doors leading to the little white-tiled rooms in the back. That's where they receive their customers, although I can't help but think of them as patient-turned-victims.

Cassandra's tattooing work tends to take hours compared to Timothy's easier punch-a-hole work that typically finishes in a matter of minutes. Cassandra was kind enough to explain those sorts of things to me and Jenny last time.

Which unfortunately means I'm stuck talking to Timothy this time, huh?

"She'll be in there for a while yet. That customer had her prepare a custom three-colour design and today's visit is for the first layer."

I force a smile to my lips as I nod understandingly to Timothy. After all, if someone treats you well, you can't be impolite. Even I know that. But even then, I wish Jenny were here. She did most of the talking the last two times we were here.

"Hello Mister Timothy. How are you?"

My timid words match my timid voice, and I can see him grinning as he motions me over. He's probably used to scaring the bejeesus out of people, come to think of it. Well, I won't say it, but in my mind I'll still thank him for not coming to greet me. Having him stomp over in greeting would probably stick around in my nightmares for at least a week!

I find myself walking up to him faster than I should. Yes. It's best not to tempt him to stand up and meet me half-way, after all.

"Doing well. Currently working on our books. Owning a place like this is expensive, and if it isn't done right, we'll go out of business."

He laughs softly, pulling out a chair besides him which I sit down upon after some trouble; it is one of those higher-and-narrower-than-typical chairs, almost like you see in movies at bars. But I manage it. Without help. Thankfully. Thank you for not even trying to help me up here, Timothy.

"Oh. That sounds bad. Are you going to?"

I ask this with an inquiring tone, my eyes avoiding his and looking at the incomprehensible gobbledeegook on his ledger. He's got terrible handwriting. Or maybe he writes in the language of the occult. Or is writing books so difficult that you need lessons to properly understand what is written? And how would you read it, then?

"Ah, no way! With her and me? We're the dream team!"

He laughs proudly, his hand motioning around us.

"It might look quiet, but that doesn't matter. We've got a good reputation. Our customers know where to find us. Cassy is the capable artiste that draws the whales in; a few good jobs for her a month already settle the rent. And then there is the smaller tattoos she does for the majority of our customers, as well as the little piercing jobs I do. Those two combined are also enough to keep this place afloat. Ignoring the running costs, that would still be barely enough for her and I to manage our monthly bills."

He talks a lot, and I am decided: he's definitely full of it. Do you need to show of like that? I have no clue what you are talking about!

"You sound good at it."

I weakly say. I mean, what else is there to say? 'You are so amazing Timothy, please teach me?' Dear god no.

"I better! It's how we do things. She's got the artistic talents, and with that comes a lot of time spent on customers and other odds and ends. That leaves me doing the books and ordering supplies; oh and don't forget ordering the jewelry that draws in young ladies like yourself so you'll come in and chat with us. You don't know it yet, but you'll be our future customer."

He laughs heartily at that, but I roll my eyes. Having my ears pierced once was more than enough, and there are more places that sell earrings than this imposing palace of the occult.

"I can't afford any of your stuff! I don't get enough pocket money to afford even one of those really tiny earrings."

My response is somewhat animated, but he just laughs at seeing my pout.

"Jewelry is an expensive hobby, Setty. If you could afford it, I'd think that something was wrong with your parents for spoiling you so much!"

His amusement just grates me. Can't he see I at least wanted him to let me try some of those pretty pieces on? My earlobes finally feel normal again, so I should be reaping some benefits from my suffering, right?

"Ah, hey Setty! I'll be done soon; I'll come chat once I'm done with this customer!"

Ah. The raised voice comes from the other room, but her back is still turned this way and I cannot see her. Is she psychic..?

No, she probably heard my voice at long last, or perhaps.. she must have heard him say my name. Timothy has a loud voice. And the song did just end. Yeah, that explains it.

"That's fine. I can't pay you anyway!"

I call back with my voice raised, causing even that customer I cannot see to laugh with a witch-like cackle. Even the customers in this place are weird. That's got to be a coincidence, right?

"So. Why are you here, lass? It isn't just to chat with me, right?"

Timothy seizes the opportunity to finally ask a question that matters. If it was another shop, I'd argue that perhaps the attendant knows people really well, but in this case, he probably knows the effect of himself on customers.

You don't just shoot the shit with Satan's cousin.

"Oh.. I thought I could maybe look at Miss Cassandra's black book again."

I state my goal of the day's trip clearly. It isn't his book, so why would I bother praising the contents of it?

He smiles, chuckling as he leans down under the counter to pull a book with a black cover out, but I see another one just underneath with a red cover.

"Oh, that makes sense. She showed you two some of her art last time, didn't she? Well, have a look."

This book is just as big as it was last time, but it impresses me nevertheless. It's not quite like an encyclopedia, but it is way bigger than even the biggest textbook I've seen at school. Especially once Timothy opens it, I realize my arms are just so tiny in comparison.

The size isn't just for showing off like you'd expect some sort of evil grimoire to be. No, the picture inside are huge and blown up. Pictures of tattoos. And close-ups of details of those tattoos sometimes. Done on living, human skin that shows red tints as if the demonic energies are swirling underneath.

There aren't even any words; this is the first picture book I have seen that is meant for adults. Once more, I feel this place is really out of this world. I just end up studying the pictures in silence, flipping the pages one by one.

Timothy seems to find the moment fit for silence and opts to write his books whilst glancing at me from the corners of his eyes from time to time. I'm sorry Timothy, it is not that I don't trust your intentions, but your red eyes just creep me out to where I feel like I'm sitting on needles.

Still, I manage to enjoy these books for what they are: gorgeous pieces of art created over the past decade. The way mere black lines manage to make these things look so real is startling. Light and shadow and darkness. Fine little lines in this pattern give a soft appearance, but in the opposite direction it looks fierce? And those thicker lines feel very gentle for some reason. And how do you make that transition from skin to black so smooth? Why does the crack in that skull look so realistic?

Cassandra placing her hand on my shoulder startles the bejeesus out of me. She must have finished with her customer. Thankfully she doesn't make fun of me being startled like Jenny would, instead opting to talk about the book.

"What do you think? Do you want me to draw something like that on your back?"

My surprised and very hasty headshaking does make Timothy laugh under his breath though. At least he doesn't involve himself saying something lame like 'it would suit you' or whatever.

"No no no! But I think your art is very pretty."

In the moment, childishly blunt statements are the best my brain can come up with. Inwardly, I feel like cringing.

"Oh thank you. I have been drawing a long time, so I am glad you think so. Can you imagine that some people tell me my art is terrible despite having loved drawing since before I was your age? It always hurts a little bit, even if I've got calluses on my heart nowadays to the point where I just ignore their rudeness."

I gasp. That's so unfair. She worked hard on those, didn't she?

"I love drawing too. And origami. Which is the folding of birds and frogs and all sorts of things. Jenny and Nii-san are always happy to receive them, saying they are really good."

She ends up laughing.

"Oh? You like to draw?"

Her question seems a bit loaded, as if there is more to it than I can make out.. but despite the half second of contemplation, there is no sensible reason as to why I feel like that.

"I do. But I like folding, too."

Her finger moves to the book, the Succubus-like nail coming to click on the plastic sheets that cover the printed pictures.

"Then how about we make a little deal?"

Suddenly, I am reminded of my first impression of this place and him and her.

Am I about to enter into a deal with the devil?