stuff us in boxes that's where you want us

cardboard is boring, we brought our matches - look how it burns

Dorian raised a point that if he were to ever get a tattoo that he agreed, a flag would be the most appropriate. But his father would be irritated by it. That and the restrictions of well his life made her bristle with a sudden onslaught of second-hand defiance. It was a damn good thing she wasn't royalty. Harley sighed unabashed, it would appear no matter how old someone was, they were still worried about their parent's opinion. How long she had been without her own parents that she forgot what it was like to feel their disapproval. "If you don't piss off your parents from time to time, you are doing it wrong." Harley added pointedly with a loose shrug, although it wasn't her job to convince anyone of well anything. But a little bit of harmless rebellion hurt no one as far as she was concerned. It was Dorian's words that lingered within her mind about the French and their ways. He wasn't wrong though. "He's your dad. Doesn't that make you at least half french too?" She met Dorian's silver eyes with ease as she questioned with a small smile playing across her lips. Did that not make him half... whatever he accused them of?

The pair then shifted topics altogether as that offer to view his art book was certainly not turned down by the woman. It was not every day she had an offer quite like that. She hardly had to judge it, even though she was certainly guilty of doing it all the same. Even despite that critical eye, she could see it was good. Page after page of those unique auras caught the raven-haired woman's astute attention as if she tried to decipher each aura like a code and unsurprisingly failed. How he seemed oblivious to what she meant that she thought his work might be... abstract and perhaps it was for the better he didn't.

To be honest she wasn't much for abstract either. She gave the man a simple bob of her head in agreement. However, eyeing those unusual auras only sparked the question if he could see hers. Yet why she bothered to ask a question she really wasn't sure she wanted the answer to was a mystery to her. Especially when the whole someone else seeing her soul unsettled her a little. That power seemed a lot like having x-ray vision and the ability to see every person without their clothes. Although, being naked and being stripped down to the soul was a completely other level. Being naked was far easier she thought to herself. Although she couldn't help the thought of Sly and how he did it. Not the naked bit, the soul part. He didn't seem to care that his flaming soul was on display because it always had been. Part of her wanted to ask Dorian if he had seen a fiery soul before and what it might mean. The possibility of later was enough to satisfy the woman for at least a moment. Yet a frown still formed at the thought of how strange it must have been to see it all, to see the world as Dorian did in a wide array of unique colours most were not privy of. How bland he must think the normal vision of any normal person was. Or maybe it was a mercy.

Yet she focused her attention on the man's art, as she said he could have made a killer portrait tattoo artist if he ever wanted to make the career change. But the guy didn't even know what a tattoo even was! Well, that was a first in this shop. She couldn't help the burst of laughter that escaped her, the whole concept of someone walking into a tattoo shop without even the faintest idea of them was... well... hilarious to the woman. Surely literally anyone could see the irony in this whole situation. 'Seriously?' She eyed Dorian who only seemed to take her words literally. Was that her question? She shook her head in reply, still smiling.

Harley at least attempted to explain even despite the frown that found its way upon the king's face. She was used to bringing a frown to people's faces. Such a thing at least never seemed to bother her. Well, at least the guy wouldn't go on another day without knowing what a tattoo actually was. Dorian didn't bother to comment about any of it, only that... he would like to see that tattoo gun she offered. "You got it." She nodded as her attention shifted back to that sketchbook.

Flipping to the following page, Harley not at all expecting to find Matteo's familiar face to be staring back up at her as Dorian explained those auras some more. Matteo was everywhere... Of that, she seemed to be certain. At least that explained the familiarity she had of the man that waltzed into her shop. But it brought a whole new level of understanding. She couldn't unsee it anymore. How could she miss it? She was usually good with faces. She could see the instant disapproval on Dorian's face as she mentioned that his father was hot. He frowned again, followed by an exasperated sigh. She listened to his comment that his father caused car accidents by merely walking by which only caused the girl to snort. Oh yeah, that somehow... didn't surprise her nor the possibility that Matteo knew exactly what he was doing. The attention hog.

"Damn, pretty sure with how drivers are, he would be far safer.... Driving. " Suggested 'helpfully', in her opinion. Yet, in all seriousness, her attention drew to the dark flecks that were purposefully drawn in that perfectly chaotic aura that surrounded the Frenchman. That simple question 'what that meant' issued. It meant voidness, Dorian claimed. Huh? Now it was her turn to frown. When one thought of Matteo she certainly didn't think of a void in any way shape or form. He was so full of life. So unique in most regards. "I refuse to believe that someone is irreparable.. with a very small exception to that rule." Harley interjected stubbornly, her jaw even set too to match the look. So what if someone had a little darkness? Who didn't? Perhaps the better question was... if it actually bothered the Frenchman.

It was when Dorian asked after her name the woman seemed surprised. Somehow, she had forgotten to introduce herself in the midst of all of that. She admittedly offered him a name with far more flourish than intended, not bothering to disclose the middle name her parents gave her. She should have known Dorian would think her middle name was actually middle name. Wow, this guy really didn't hang around people like her much, did he? Well that was unsurprising. Most did not.

Ah, the curse of being painfully misunderstood. "Nah, man, I only chose to leave it out and you had a fancy long name so I decided to... jazz mine up a little. After all, people only use your full name when you are in deep shit and absolutely no one likes that." Did he know what a joke was? Wondering how one person who had clearly been around the block.... Could take things so literally.

Yet it would appear he didn't at least not understand Harley's unique brand of sarcasm and humour. Which was a shame because so few did. His answer to one of her questions nearly caused her to keel over. He seemed so.... Innocent. He seemed to shine as he spoke about those souls and why he 'loved' to draw them. They were beautiful! God, this guy was truly rainbows and unicorns. Did he sneeze sparkles too? How different this guy was to her. What she didn't expect was for him to turn on her in the same breath as something beautiful. The woman was taken off guard, nearly even causing the woman to sputter. She had been called many things, but lovely and beautiful were certainly not the first words that often came to people's lips when referring to her. At the end of it, she claimed his lines were smooth. But eventually agreed to the him drawing her part. Curiosity always seemed to win out.

Yet even still, Harley couldn't help but feel the tug of concern at what she would find. All of that was promptly swiped away as he admitted his husband hardly found him smooth. Amusement sparked at the mention that he was hopeless, or the fact that he had to further admit that he was good with lines, artistic or otherwise. Okay then. But there it was, the impish look that sparked that seemed to reflect a certain fae she knew. Maybe he had a little bit more of Matteo buried in there than just those eyes.

"With that look, something tells me you just might surprise the pants off him one day." She said without too much further thought to how accurate that would be. Yet it would seem, any sign of Matteo disappeared, just like that, like a figment of her imagination as Dorian returned to his usual formal demeanour as Harley mentioned they could use her tattoo room and that he could bring his smallest guard. How this made her snicker eternally as he mentioned Lucas by name. Poor guy would forever think himself to be small, not that there was anything wrong with being compact-sized. Not that he was compact in any regard. It was her gaze that took in Lucas' expression before she heard the commanding sound of a foreign language.

Well didn't that sound fun.

"What did you say? I have never seen someone jump at an order so fast." She stated after one of Dorian's entourage took off in record time that she could practically see a trail of dust behind him where the man once stood. Like the man threatened his unborn child or something. That's how fast he moved.

After returning that sketchbook to its rightful owner, Harley then led the way to her back room, grasping her favoured rolly chair to accompany them. There was no need to lock the front door of her shop with so many guards. The small room held an adjustable chair in the centre of it, one that could easily be flexible to suit most of her tattoo clients and her. It was probably the most expensive thing in this entire shop. It was rare Harley got to sit in it, minus when she stole a nap for herself, swearing she slept better in that chair than she did at home sometimes. That question of where she would like him to sit was uttered politely. In fact, she thought more of him then rather than acting like he owned the place. Shouldn't she have asked that? He was drawing her after all.

"Considering you're doing the work.. You can sit in my prized rolly chair. It's way easier to manoeuvre." She then gave the chair a solid push toward the royal, probably breaking several laws in the process. The chair rolled smoothly his way, losing some momentum just before it met him. Without giving it another thought, Harley then strode across the room to procure a black book of her own that didn't possess the fine Italian leather that Dorian's was. There were a few loose sheets tucked inside. Those were the things she intended to sell when she got around to it. If she ever did. Harley glanced toward Lucas gesturing to the stationary chair tucked away in the corner for a moral support friend of a client if they brought someone. It looked too small for him, made even smaller when next to the big plush, fuzzy dog bed meant for Ace when he joined her on most of her work days.

It was then that she heard the chime of the front door opening again which caused Harley to freeze, book still in her hand. Another person? What time of day was it again? She would have loved to see who attempted to waltz in there with those intimidating guards at the front. She barely had a moment to move to see who had come when that out-of-breath man appeared. How did he get back so quickly? But he was huffing and puffing and precariously holding various bags and a beverage container.... What she hardly expected was for a teacup to be whipped out like it was normal. Then again what was normal in her life?

He was so quick that he had already put the pastries on a plate. She looked away for only a moment. Dorian was already at home and comfortable with a teacup in his hand like he had been missing it all along. The Italian already informed her that he procured a selection of everything on the street. Say what? How did he even do that... so fast? She openly gawked at the guard and then the wide away of tasty treats. Despite how fast they appeared, she was certainly dissuaded or one to turn down what looked to be so delicious and maybe the most expensive pasties that this street had to offer. Woah. He claimed he liked to take tea while he worked. "Wow, thanks for this! I'm more of a coffee drinker myself." She enjoyed the bolder flavour of coffee better. But her mind returned to his faithful guard and procurer.

"You just say what you want and he will get you... anything? Just like that?" He would be amazing when she had a mad craving for something. Oh, the things money could buy. Okay, next life she was coming back super powerful and rich.

She eyed that offered plate that had been placed on her work table, as she had trouble choosing just one. This certainly beat her bowl of candy that sat on a ledge. She popped one of those tasty procured morsels into her mouth, a small one, chewing and delighting in the tasty morsel. She didn't even know they had any of this on that street! How she intended to eat more of these. They were damn good and there was that chocolate one in the middle that she was already eyeing next. It was like she was never fed the way she eyed that tray. Her eyes were always bigger than her stomach.

Oh yeah, she nearly forgot.

"Oh here... you said you wanted to see.." She extended her hand, before offering the Italian king a glimpse into one of her most prized possessions... Her sketchbook. Oh, what it contained... and yet no mere glimpse could betray too much... unless they had the full story.

Not that all of it was some cryptic message or story. Hell, the first loose page tucked inside was a cute image of a pumpkin cat. A cat that was actually made of pumpkin popped out of a hole from the top of a carved pumpkin, one that wore a cute little stem hat with the writing 'You're creeping meowt'. The second of what was supposed to be a headless horseman but the horse was headless... Various other random parodies and puns she thought of that amused her all the same. A crow perched on a coffee cup rim with the word Caw-fee written in upon that simple modern, oversized coffee cup. The actual book itself was filled with creatures, some monstrous, some oddly cute. Some plain sinister, some possessing fangs and... other curiosities. Fantasy and reality collided into one. Some drawings were meaningful, others just plain cool in her own opinion. Other pages were filled with secret things, the things that scared her, only she amplified it tenfold. Somehow using her art in a way to take back her own fear. Or using those pages to hold the covert sadness that sometimes existed in her heart that she refused to hold within her, to keep herself sane.

Occasionally, there would be a drawing of the things that stood out to her, things she loved. Like Ace... There were plenty of sketches of her much-loved dog that had been far more a constant in her life than anything else. A picture of her own feline form with bright purple gemstone eyes that matched her own prowled across one of those pages too. Then there was something fiery too. Those pictures were varied and wholly different from one another, her shading as bold as she was, unafraid of using the use of the dark in her surprisingly detailed work. The only thing in common was that, for the most part, those personal works were done in grayscale and the parodies were mostly done up in colour as if the two worlds existed separately.

She then eyed the king, still unsure what to make of the guy with basically rainbow vision as she plopped herself onto that chair, on its edge, but not without stealing another treat first, that chocolate one that her name on it. Figuratively of course. She eyed that morsel like it was life itself, patiently waiting for the fae's verdict... maybe slightly curious considering their styles were so very different. "I feel like sugar and chocolate is life's way of apologizing for the shitty parts." She mused out loud before she took a bite and was certainly not disappointed.

Harley Westward