Life, According to Megan. (Solo:WIP)

According to everyone she had asked before agreeing to do this, getting a tattoo was relatively painless. They had been wrong. Very wrong. She would make them pay later by sending in eight legged soldiers to leave itchy bites on arms and legs… and faces. Most definitely faces. The twenty three year old grimaced once again, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as the Tattooists needle sank into the back of her neck once again, with more ink on the needle. “ugh… whatever happened to this not hurting all that much buddy?... it feels like your sawing into the back of my skull…” She heard the bald man grunt and sent him a rueful glanced in the mirror in front of her.

“It depends on where you get the work done, girly. On your shoulder wouldn’t have hurt so much, you r neck though? I might as well be sawing into you.”

Megan grunted back, and carefully moved her arm in hopes that feeling would return to it. She had been in the shop for about an hour, so her limbs were falling asleep. “About how much longer is this- Ow!- going to take?” Was that desperation in her voice… maybe, she wasn’t about to admit it though.
“You’ve got, oh, I’d say about half an hour or so of work left… maybe less if you’d quit squirming.”

Her rueful glare morphed into a deadpan one, and the dark haired woman stuck her tongue out at the tattooed man. “I’d quit squirming if you’d let me change positions once in a while…”

Megan lapsed into silence while the tattooist concentrated on his work, and thought about the other handful of tattoo’s she had been looking at. Of course, the spider web on the back of her neck was most important to her- seeing as she loved the little buggers after all. Next on her list would probably be the smiley face on her finger… Something that she had seen in a tattoo magazine when she had been researching what to have done on her neck.

“Ow! Do you have to stab me like that?”

The response to her abrupt question was another sharp jab. “I’m just adding in the droplets of water you wanted.” He stated, rather coyly. Megan rolled her eyes, and returned to staring at the top of his head in the mirror. “Do you think you’d have time to do another tattoo today too?” She asked, resisting the urge to bat her eyelashes at him. “I was thinking about getting a little smiley face on my finger, this one right here.” Up went the bird, and she grinned. The tattooist only laughed and shook his head.

“Not if you’re going to keep complaining like this, missy.” Another jab of the needle. Megan hissed, and winced. “Fine fine!” she muttered, “I’ll keep my mouth shut, I promise.”

She clammed up immediately, and set to wondering how on earth she was going to take care of a tattoo on her finger. Just her luck, the whole area would swell and render the digit useless for a few weeks… then what would she do when people cut her off in traffic? “Alright, all done!” Megan lurched to her feet in excitement, “It is!?” Ducking in front of the mirror, she craned her neck and spied with wide eyes the black spider web that draped over the back of her neck, white droplets of dew ingrained forever in place on its silken threads.

“Oh… I love it. You, my friend, are an artist!” He grinned, enjoying the praise, and dipped his needle into the ink to start in on the finger face…