#astrcphe

He   ponders   the   question,      fingers   drumming   an   annoying   beat   against   the   tattoo   art   book   they’ve   just   wasted   half   an   hour      (     possibly longer     )      flicking   through   together.         Nothing   specific   is   catching   the   boy’s   eye         .   .   .         which   brought   Seamus   to   make   the   suggestion   they   simply   wing   it.         Still   sounded   like   a   solid   plan   in   his   opinion,      despite   their   apparent   scepticism.                     ＂         How   is   it   not   a   plan?         ＂                     He   answers   the   question   with   another   question,      as   if   one   CANCELS   out   the   other.                     ＂         You’re   an   artist,      I   trust   you.         Just   ink   whatever   comes   to   mind   first.         Consider   me   arm   your   doodle   pad.         ＂                     Hey,      in   his   defence.       ―       Seamus   never   said   it   was   a   good   plan.         Simply   a   plan.

＂         Excuse   me         .   .   .            ＂                     Spirited   approach   announces   his   arrival   as   Oskar   steps   through   the   doorway   of   Markus   Scarr’s   Indelible   Tattoos,      immediately   seeking   out   the   one   person   he   came   here   to   see.               ―               And   Merlin,      does   it   feel   GOOD   to   see   them,         an   invisible   weight   lifting   from   his   shoulders   at   the   relief   that   they’re   okay   washing   over   once   more.         Reports   of   brutal   attacks   happening   so   close   to   Henri’s   work   is   enough   to   shake   even   his   usual   calm         &         collected   nature,         paternal   instinct   overpowering   rationality.                     ＂         I   know   I   don’t   have   an   appointment,      but   I   was   really   hoping   to   get   a   new   tattoo   today.         Something   big   and   bold,      like   a   Runespoor         .   .   .         or   a   Hippocampus.         Right   here.         ＂                     Hand   circles   the   entirety   of   his   upper   arm.                        ＂         Or   maybe   here.         ＂                     Directions   move   to   his   neck   now,      somewhere   a   little   more   out   in   the   open   to   keep   this   attempt   at   a   Dad   joke   going   as   long   as   possible,      acting   more   customer   than   parent.                     ＂         What   do   you   think?               ―               Would   it   suit   me?         ＂

‘     Don’t  patronise  me.     ’     Shoulder  bumps  gently  against  Henri’s,   though  previous  pout  is  slowly  easing  into  a  shadow  of  a  smile  that  some  might  suggest  resembles  affection.   There’s  few  people  in  the  world  Lavender  finds  herself  at  ease  around  these  days;     friends  becoming  strangers,   strangers  becoming  something  else  entirely,   but  HIDDEN  TREASURE  has  been  discovered  in  the  eerie  corners  on  Knockturn  Alley.   New  friendships  for  her  to  value   &   hold  dear.          ‘     I  don’t  think  you’re  fully  grasping  the  trauma  I’ve  been  through  here.   They  literally  asked  me  to  tattoo..     —     I’m  not  even  gonna  repeat  it.   I  know  I’m  right.     ’          Cup  of  Firewhiskey  is  brought  to  lips,   only  to  be  greeted  with  the  bitter  disappointment  that  it’s  empty.          ‘     And  I’m  in  desperate  need  of  another  drink.   Come  with  me?   We  can  do  shots  and  you  can  protect  me  from  any  more  weird  requests.     ’