𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖎𝖓

Frankie had become one of the areas most popular tattoo artists in the past eighteen months. While he would like to think it was due to his excellent work, fine lines, and bright colors -- it was mostly due to promotions. He had gone on local radio stations for interviews, held contests on Facebook offering discounted tattoos to people that would like, follow, and share his posts, and essentially every other promotion a small business owner could think of.

Burning Rose had developed quite a following and his wallet was proof of that. Still, even with all of the attention and rockstar persona, he was a bit of a let down in his personal life. He could smooth talk anyone, but once the night was over and their clothes were back on, his charm would disappear. Perhaps that's why he had such a hard time with small talk, something painfully obvious as he tried to create a conversation with the person in front of him in the line at the local coffee shop. "So... Come here often?" A cheesy smile stretched across his face, making him feel like a socially inept teenager all over again.

Marissa, or as nearly everyone knew her as, Riz, had been out of work for about two weeks after a bad burn to the hand. A little girl that had been running around the beauty shop got in her work space and went to pull a hot curling iron off of the counter. In true mom fashion, she tried to protect the child and attempting to grab it -- only grabbing the heated ceramic cylinder instead. 

It was supposed to be her very first day back to the shop, back to her friends, her clients, and back to the neighborhood gossip. However, when she went out to start her vehicle that was parallel parked just out front of her apartment building, it wouldn't turn over. She didn't have much money, certainly couldn't call for a tow, didn't want to call for a cab. The woman started to panic. How would she stay afloat if she couldn't make it to work? How would she make rent? How would she buy food? 

Exiting the car, she began to kick at the driver's side front tire and curse. After a few moments of throwing what could only be described as an adult temper tantrum, she walked up to the first person on the sidewalk she could find. "Hi, excuse me? I-I really don't mean to bother you and all that jazz, but I was wonderin' if you could help me with my car?" Mascara stained her brown cheeks from the tears that had spilled from her eyes and she was certain she looked like a crazy person. "It won't start and a girl is literally desperate right now, 'kay?"

For the third time this week, Nico was leaving an apartment building in the wee hours of the morning. This time, she was attempting to sneak out at half past five. Her black and red dress from the night before wasn't as fitting this morning, seeing as she barely had it on over her shoulders. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was a mess -- all she wanted to do was go home. She was never proud of her walks of shame, but a girl had to do what a girl had to do. It wasn't like she was getting any younger, and certainly no one wanted to date her. Hookups and booze were going to be the closest thing she'd get to affection. She was in such a rush to escape before anyone could see her that she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. All of a sudden - bam! She crashed into another person, causing her to drop her keys, phone, and wallet on the ground. "Oh fuck me!" she shouted, bending over to pick them up, nearly losing the top of her dress as she did so. 

She stood up straight again and narrowed her eyes to get a better look at the person. "You good?" she muttered, her breath reeking of alcohol and regret.

It was the middle of her shift, at approximately 10:30 pm when she thought she saw a familiar face near the bar. A woman she had previously known -- perhaps even loved. No, not loved. Jessa was incapable of love, only lust, she constantly told herself. Besides, where the hell did love ever get Bonnie Elizabeth Parker? It got her got, shot, and deader than a doornail. Still, the fact that she was so convinced that this person was the one she knew, well it picked at her heart. "Hey," she shouted to her coworker Louisa over the loud music, "cover for me for ten? I'll be right back, promise."

She meandered through the crowd until she reached the person she was looking for, with her back turned to her. Taking in a sharp breath, Jessa reached out and grabbed the other person's shoulder. "Hey! What the fuck are you doin' here?" Either she'd be right and maybe be safe, or she'd be wrong and lose a tooth. Truthfully? She hoped neither would happen.

Saraya.

That's all he could think about in regards to his situation. From the moment he met her, there was something about her that managed to make him feel like the world wasn't out to get him. Thankfully, Mrs. Tuttle, the sixty-two year old lady next door agreed to watch Kiara for the day so he could plan a surprise. The six year old girl would have usually fought to go with him, but she had become quite fond of the elderly woman's four cats. 

With a bouquet of carnations and daisies in hand, Eli stood there waiting in front of Saraya's door. He knew it was possible that she would have her son and that possibility was perfect to him. He had grown to adore the boy as much as his mother. Taking a deep breath, he knocked on her door, placing three loud raps on the wood. "Miss Saraya," he called out, a sing-song tone dripping from his words, "would you care to accompany a poor peasant man on an adventure today?"