flying colors.— [byeong-ho/sampson]

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flying colors.— [byeong-ho/sampson] Sept 11, 2021 21:35:39 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Sept 11, 2021 21:35:39 GMT -5

Normally my shop was a safe haven of sorts, a place I rarely felt nervous. Once I sat down with a customer and started chatting about a design, all of my fears normally drifted away. And while tattooing or designing? I was in my zone. It was like second nature to me. At this point there was no need to be nervous, I knew I was a damn good tattoo artist. Well, until earlier today.

I got a call from Sampson Crowe of all people. He informed me that he'd be stopping in today and that I should be ready. I'd rather it being a call from my parents saying that they had to sell the shop. At least then I'd have a reputation to start with. But if Sampson Crowe hates his tattoo or my shop or me? I'm fucked. The reputation I've worked to build up? Demolished in an instant.

Luckily, I had a cancellation today. It was my appointment in the slot before he was supposed to be coming in which gave me time to get ready. I had to call and reschedule the appointment during the time and the next one after, just in case we ran late. I hoped he had just wanted a consultation or something small, quick, and easy. Though, something told me it wouldn't be easy at all.

Normally, I wouldn't let someone just walk-in and demand a tattoo. But this was Sampson Crowe! If I didn't recognise his voice I'd assume it was a prank call. After all, look at the tattoo artists he normally works with! Man is a tribute stylist - the prince of Saturn City!

During my self-scheduled lunch break I even ran upstairs into the apartment portion of my shop and got changed. Normally around the shop I was a hoodie type of guy. But, that wasn't good enough for our special guest today. I put on slightly nicer clothes and made sure I didn't see any flaws anywhere - no tuffs of hair sticking out, no stains on my shoes, nothing.

I made sure everything was perfect in the shop during the time slot for the cancelled appointment. I even got a ladder - though I'm pretty tall myself - and got the signage out front wiped off "Flying Colors: Pretty in Ink Tattoos". The Flying Colors part was supposed to be a brand name in case I ever expanded past just a tattoo shop. And hey, maybe Sampson Crowe praising my shop could be exactly what I need to expand! Maybe that's a big too optimistic, actually. But hey, a man can hope.

Once it was time for him to show up, I took a drink from my bottle of pink lemonade and tried not to stare at the door too hard as I waited at the reception desk. After all, I was the owner, tattoo artist, receptionist, secretary, accountant, and janitor around here. That surprised some people, after all my parents put a considerable amount of money in this place. They made it look like a high-class, professional place from day one. And that made people think it was more than just some 20 year old kid working there.

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flying colors.— [byeong-ho/sampson] Sept 18, 2021 12:48:21 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2021 12:48:21 GMT -5

It's called self-care.

Between him and his therapist, Sampson's been clinically diagnosed as stressed the fuck out. Can you blame him? Every day's a new appearance -- he's thanked to be booked, of course, nobody wants to be the next Jareth Amell. Time is money, you stay out the spotlight for too long and it'll move on without you. Prince of Saturn City; the city that never sleeps, maybe that's what makes him a perfect fit.

That's not the case for today, though.

His first phone call was to his best friend, Jemma, as always. Every morning they call and do their skin routine, part just to hold each other accountable to the process & part just to talk shit. "Ugggggggh,"

"Felt that."

"No, Nessa just cancelled her fitting, watch this be the only morning I'm free," he says, squinting into the instant messenger built into his bathroom mirror. "Oh fuck me. It is," accompanied with a groan.

"OOP! Girl, how many people are going to cancel on you?"

"Right."

He's chewing on the inside of his cheek when Jemima asks what he's planning on doing now -- and for once, he has no clue. Normally he'd shift some times around, but with all the Network deadlines hitting at once nothing's budging. There's a pause before he goes, "... let me make another call real quick."

And ten minutes later, Sampson Crowe had a tattoo appointment.

It's four p.m. and he's in his club outfit, angel wings and all that. Sure enough Tazzle's entourage followed him there, they'll hang out on balconies sometimes and take photos of random socialites -- randomly, of course, Sampson was always one of them. They're all gearing up for the coming fashion season, and with Bambi taking an extensive vacation, a whole bunch of eyes watch him enter the Pretty in Ink parlor.

"Oh dang," he says as he's swiping through the tattoo selection. Sampson's alone in the parlor for a few minutes, browsing to the 14th-ish page of designs before his stylist comes in- "Byeong-ho!" Spoken like a celebration, he meets him at the check-out to shake his hand.

"I've had such a shit day, I had to put poppers in my coffee just to get this far. Anyways, sick studio," Sardonyx always taught him to talk with a smile. Make your bitching at least entertaining, you know? "Thanks for taking me on so short notice, I would have went to my regular but she died?!"

Like, what the fuck?

He shrugs it off before leaning on the counter, "but so someone on my stylist team - Mortem! You might know her, she told me all about this one-man parlor, so," maybe he'll buy a tattoo parlor, maybe Adessia will come out of retirement then. Honestly, it looks better than he had expected; the windows are one-way. That's appreciated.

"Did you do all the designs yourself?" He asks, waving over to the portfolio kiosk. "I was kind of thinking something J.J. Moreau-inspired, what'cha got?"

Last Edit: Sept 18, 2021 13:29:02 GMT -5 by Deleted

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flying colors.— [byeong-ho/sampson] Sept 18, 2021 14:25:59 GMT -5

Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2021 14:25:59 GMT -5

Byeong-Ho!

Fuck. He was actually here. Part of me was hoping it was all just a prank call. Or that Sampson would have something come up or simply change his mind before he got here. But now that he was here? He had to get a tattoo and he had to like it. And not only that, he had to like the shop as a whole. Even a three-star review saying the tattoo was good but something about the shop was sub-par could damage my reputation.

Of course, I didn't say any of this. After I greeted him, I realised I sounded a bit more formal than normal. At parties and out of about - when I was out of my comfort zone - I tended to have a more formal way of speaking, when I was sober at least. But here? Here I tried to be casual and laid-back to create a chill and relaxing environment. I hoped I would start to calm myself a little. But for now? I reminded myself to just keep a polite smile on my face

"Ah, Mr. Crowe! It's a pleasure to meet you!"

Shaking his hand, I noticed he had a little bit of an entourage outside. And I was thankful that they were outside rather than inside. Once we make an exception to any rule for someone, everyone else expects to be an exception too. Though, I'd do it if I had to for this to go well. Within reason, of course.

I had to put poppers in my coffee just to get this far.

What the hell are poppers? Right now that was my biggest concern. Remember when I said I'd make exceptions to the rules within reason? If they were alcoholic, that wasn't one of them. My shop has two clear rules about who we serve. We refuse to serve kids and drunk people. Maybe Sampson didn't appear drunk, but some people held their alcohol well. And maybe poppers were just some sort of new diet trend or something and not booze.

"I'm really sorry to hear about that, Mr. Crowe. But, going back to what you said, may I ask what poppers are? We have a strict no-alcohol policy for tattoos. If they are alcoholic, we could definitely still plan today! We just can't tattoo you unfortunately."

I hoped that sounded reasonable enough. And I was calm enough to stand my ground on this, which was good. Whenever I had to tell guests something they didn't want to hear, I always said "we" as though there's some bigger company behind it. This isn't my policy, it's company policy! And I hope they don't realise I'm the only one here because I own it. Though, most tattoo shops had a similar tattoo policy. After all, guests can't legacy sign the release paper while under the influence.

"I know of her, yes. And yes, I drew all of the designs myself. Of course though, we could always draw you a custom one, those are just examples. And before I can recommend anything, do you have any preferences for size or placement?"

I moved from the counter over toward the kiosk as I spoke, trying to think if I had anything already that was JJ Moreau-ish. Maybe I could think of one to show him instantaneously on a normal day. But today was not a normal day. This wasn't a normal customer. Luckily, I could feel my nerves slowly leaving my body, for now at least. Just keep smiling, Byeong-Ho. Just keep smiling.