The Punk and the Snark [Pt. 8]
"Oh my!"
Was the clever refrain that Paul Capodistrisa managed to blurt out once the shock wore off.
The other one, the pudgy gay kid named Jerry Sinclair however was eyeballing the man-candy on display, and considering that a lot of the guys getting tattooed by the artists at Swedesville's Annual TattooCon were of the buff and muscular variety, the kid looked like he had died and discovered heaven to be an idealized West Hollywood.
Daria and Jane both smirked, it was rather mean to drop people like this into a place so outside of Prepschool land, but it was funny.
"So Tom," Bob said as they rejoined the group with hot dogs, hamburgers, and beer that Bob had 'convinced' the vendor to sell them in lieu of being sucker punched, "Think you're man enough to get a tat?"
Tom laughed, "If I did, I'd be kicked out of my economic bracket."
"Well as long as no one could see it..." Jane teased as Tom handed her a hot dog with all the trimmings.
Tom Sloane's blush was enough to have everyone snicker, even Daria cracked a small grin.
"I couldn't imagine mutilating my skin," Paul said, mostly to himself, "Plus I think the family would take everything, including my name."
"Then what would we call you?" Jerry joked while eyeing a guy in a full Yakuza bodysuit, "No-Capo?"
As Tom Sloane's friends from Fielding Prep continued their banter, Bob waited for Daria to finish eating and then said, "Would it bother you if I said I have a small surprise to show you?"
"Why would a surprise bother me?" Daria asked while washing down the hot dog with the soda she had demanded instead of alcohol.
"Follow me." Bob said with a head nod in a direction towards the various tattooing stations set up across the venue.
Daria raised an eyebrow but followed, wondering if he remembered the story about her failed piercing.
And how she didn't plan on trying anything like that again.
"Are you sure about this?" Daria asked even as the grizzled older gent in faded tattoos and old leathers was shaving off hard to see hairs on Bob's chest.
"Course I'm sure." Bob said with a jaunty grin, "And it'll only take a couple hours to finish, so we won't be forced to stay all that long, if the crowd gets to you."
Daria tried to think of a response, but instead her gaze was unable to rise above Bob's exposed and surprisingly toned body, the less said about his nipple rings the better.
As Gus the Tattooman placed the transfer paper with the design over his heart, Daria decided to snag a nearby chair and watch the process unfold.
"Maybe it isn't as bad as I've built it up to be." Daria mused to herself as Gus began to set up his inks.
She was about to find out.
"Wow!" Jane exclaimed once Bob and Daria found them in the crowd, and she figured out why Bob wasn't wearing a shirt.
"Cool tat man." Jerry said as his eyes undressed the rest of the punk.
Paul just shook his head at the both of them and whispered to Jerry something that sounded like, "I thought those two bikers you hooked up with would have filled your quota."
"Why the fancy lock though?" Tom asked with a tilt of his head as he took the image in.
Bob smiled, "I had the picture for a while, it's of an old fashion lock that I found at my Grandmother's when I was little, and it has a matching key."
Bob then fished something out of his pocket and held it up in the light, it was a rather antique looking key.
He then handed it to Daria and said, "Since you aren't ready for a tattoo, you can have the real key."
Daria's mask briefly broke and the group was able to see, most for the first time, that she was deeply touched.
"...Thank you." she said back softly as she held the key in her hands limply.
Bob took her hands into his and held them firmly, he didn't say anything back but let his actions speak for him instead.
Jane, Tom, Jerry, and Paul gave them a comfortable space for the rest of the trip.