The light ting! of metal hair pins scattered across the polished mahogany in beautiful contrast. Silver slivers slid beneath the bookshelves; bookshelves that looked like skyscrapers from where she lie.

"Great," the bookkeeper feigned irritation, eyes rolling in search for the lost pin. "I'll never see those again."

"Don't need 'em." Came the rouged response, a teasing growl harboring in his throat. Tangling his fingers beneath the lavender strands, he continued. "You look damn good with your hair down." Another of his kisses continued down the makeshift trail, straight over the side of her waist, traveling leisurely along her hip - which was bare save for a limp lace material. Shuddering exhales escaped the bookkeeper, and the neighboring shopkeeper snickered.

With a satisfied smirk, the tattoo artist watched the single lace strand fall away.

Freed from it's lingerie cage, her ashen skin was like moonlight marble against the dark floors. Seeing her bare skin was invigorating; like he'd been raised from whatever reality he'd been living in, and delivered straight to the golden kingdom in the clouds. Tongue running briefly over his bottom lip, Garfield eyed the innocence of her silken skin; supple and pure from years of being hidden beneath those stiff pencil skirts.

Without another second's though, the artist lurched forward.

A chill sent straight up her spine.

"G-Garfield," she murmured, hands tugging desperately deeper into his forest green locks, his lips nearing the fresh mark.

Grinning at his little work of art, the fresh imprint of his mark lay wonderfully on the blank canvas, admired by each in their own way. Entranced, the boy nosed closer, surrounding the area with his warm kisses. Her hip was absolutely sweltering, and the artist couldn't help but relish in the lovely radiating mark.

"You know what those lead to, Mr. Logan."

"Well, I sure didn't come for a geography book." Leading a swollen trail downward, Garfield smirked.

He'd come for undiscovered territory.