Page 196 of Fatality

Why was I real to him? Why the silence, specifically?

Was he deaf at some point in his life?

Probably when he was a kid, because he can hear me perfectly today.

If he had been, I bet he'd have been breaking people's jaws just because the sight of them chewing annoyed him.

That fucking psycho.

I finish the tattoo, wipe away the excess ink, and apply a second skin.

It adapts to the client's natural skin tone the moment it touches the pigment, protecting the tattoo while helping it heal.

I stretch and smile at the client as he leaves me a hefty tip.

“Charlie, want that tip? It’s a thousand credits.”

Her head snaps toward me instantly, the probably-university kid whose eyebrow Jules had just pierced completely forgotten.

“Oh my God, yes!” She practically launches herself at me. “Yes! Yes! That’ll pay for my new nails and shoes!”

“Get off!” I laugh, shoving her away. “I’m transferring it to you.”

I pull up my comm and send the credits over.

“You sure, Riv? Because it was your tip.”

She does her big eyes thing, swaying her shoulders from side to side.

“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “It’s not like I need the money anyway.”

I start cleaning my station for the next client.

The little chime Charlie and Jules insisted on adding to the studio’s front door a week ago sings through the studio.

Every time a client enters or leaves, it sings.

I can’t stand it anymore, not because the melody is annoying.

It’s because I’ve been hearing the damn thing at least fifty times a day for the past week.

“I swear I’m going to rip that thing out!” I shout, spinning around in my chair while I clean my tattoo station.

I freeze mid-turn.

A tall man stands in the doorway, dressed in a dark tuxedo, a matte black box in his hands, wrapped with an ivory ribbon.

I know exactly who it’s from.

“Put the box down and get the fuck out.”

“Miss Laordie, I’m afraid I cannot.” He takes a step forward, his voice perfectly measured, as polished as everything else about him. “Your parents instructed me to place this box directly into your hands... and to escort you back with me.”

My expression hardens instantly.

I abandon what I’m doing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie shift uncomfortably, while Jules pauses, gloves still on, a needle poised against the teeth of the man sitting in her chair.