Inked [1x1]

Otto took a sip of his water as he listened, nodding even though Laila couldn't see. He laughed. "No, no," he insisted. "And you say that like I haven't supported you. I helped you 'regain your inspiration', remember?"
 
"Whoa, there. Someone is getting a little full of himself over there." She laughed, "You helped me focus on my already existing inspiration," She was smiling and it was making her face hurt. She remembered this phase of getting to know someone new. It was an enjoyable feeling.

"What are you doing, anyway?"
 
"Mm-hm, mm-hm, I'm sure, I'm sure," he said in such a way that if they were face to face, he'd be waving his hand in the air. "I'm on break. I just finished marking someone."
 
"I'm not even going to dignify that with a remark," she muttered. "Ooh! How did it go?"
 
Otto laughed. "Ah, it was fine. The lady was wanting one to show that she was business orientated, but still feminine. So I gave her a really tall high heel on her arm," he said. "She liked, it, I think."
 
"You think?" She giggled, "What happened to the confidence? Was it at least a cute high heel? A pump, maybe? Stiletto?"
 
"She didn't seem that happy," he admitted. "I think she thought it was more feminine than business. That's what I got off of her, though." He laughed. "I honestly don't know. I knew what a high heel looked like, sort of vaguely drew it out and she seemed okay with it a few weeks later!"
 
She shrugged, though he couldn't see her. "Not every life event is worth inking," she shared. There were some who thought every single aspect of their person and personality needed to be documented on their skin, no matter how insignificant. "I'm sure it was the best inked high heel in all of Saintstone."
 
Otto laughed. "Thanks. My colleague, Tanika, probably could have done better. She wears them every day." He sighed. "I didn't see any big marks on you. Are you waiting for something big?" He asked.
 
Grateful to be at home and speaking over the phone, Laila squirmed some. "Yeah, something like that. Thus far my life has been fairly ordinary so I think it's worth waiting for something bigger and better. What about you, for an inker you have very few ink yourself."
 
"Right," Otto said. His eyes drifted to his arms. Compared to his coworkers, he might as well have been blank. He shuddered at his own thoughts. "I don't know, to be honest. I actually don't have any, apart from the ones everyone else has, of course." He ran a hand through his hair. "I guess I just need some inspiration. Something big needs to happen."
 
"Nothing wrong with that." She agreed, seeing as they were on the same page... or so it seemed. Laila bit her lip, "I should get back to writing." He was at work, after all, but she also wanted to be the one to end the call so she doesn't seem too eager about talking to him. "I'm glad you called." Just so he knows she's interested.
 
Otto's eyes widened. "Wait, don't hang up just yet!" He said quickly, running through his head. "Would...would you like to go out for dinner tonight?" He asked.
 
The blonde smiled in her apartment and bounced a little on her couch. Slow, deeep breath. "Yeah, that sounds great. Where were you thinking?"
 
Okay, step one finished. Step two...did he even know any really good restaurants? There was one, at least. "Ah, well, there's a nice place near the library. The Saint's House. I've heard good things about it."
 
She'd heard of it, but had never been. It was a little over-hyped, but that didn't bother her. "Sure. seven?" She wasn't sure what time he got off work but surely a reasonable time for dinner
 
Otto smiled. "Sure!" He got off work at five, so that gave him two hours to get ready. "I'll come pick you up. What's your address?" He asked, pulling a pencil out of his pocket. He was going to write it just under her number; what, was that page just going to be dedicated to her now?
 
That page should totally be dedicated to her! Ahem. She recites her address carefully (a modest apartment complex), smiling the whole time. There was no way she was going to be able to get any more writing done now, but that was okay because she had a date. "I'll see you then."
 
He took the address down equally as carefully, unwilling to mess up and go somewhere entirely different. He'd passed the street once or twice before, so he knew vaguely where he was going. He underlined the address, purely out of habit. "Great!" In the background, a bell tinkled. "Oh, someone's just come in. I'll see you tonight!"
 
"Great, see you then." And then before her nerves could cause her to say anything else she quickly hung up the phone. Click. After the initial excitement waned she realized that going on a date was a little more than harmless flirting and there was a chance of attachment. The blonde sighed. "It's okay. It's just a date. He's just a guy." She talked herself over it and then the excitement picked back up. She called her closest (using the word loosely here) friend to tell her and the girl on the other line quietly walked her friend through her outfit choices. "Keep it simple," Zenaida reminded her. Laila nodded, peering in at her closet.

Simple, right.

She ended up going with a a pair of flare jeans and a navy blue cable knit sweater. Simple make up, simple clothes, simple hair. Still, she thought she looked cute when she looked at herself in the mirror at 6:45. Fifteen minutes early.

By the by, she got absolutely no writing done that day.
 
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