Chapter Text
The sun had barley even dipped when Zanka returned, and found Jabber surprisingly gone.
He had took the train to a café on the other side of the city, but had only been gone for about an hour.
He hummed as he pushed open the door of the tattoo shop, his own tattooed arms shining under the sun, and the neon signs from inside.
He wasn’t necessarily a buff guy, and never had been.
He admitted at times he’d wished he was stronger, especially growing up with family in the government, and police force.
He’d just never found himself committed, to the liberty of ‘solving crime.’ He found it caused more problem than started, and preferred to be somewhat of the black sheep to his family, and work at a tattoo shop, out of everything.
Semiu greeted him with a glance up from over her large circular glasses, before humming and waving idly as her amber eyes moves back down to the quoted, ‘best magazine I’m reading right now.’
He glanced back, not all one for small talk, but also not an asshole. The man moved to his station, setting his small bag of whatever goodies he found when about down, and sighing.
He took in the silence away from the city noise, Enjin’s blabbering, Riyo’s gentle but sometimes overbearing company, Rudo’s theatrics and Jabbers… whatever he was.
It was maybe… five minutes of silence? Before the bells jingled harshly and Jabber strode in, looking as annoying and smug as ever. Though, there was something off about him. Something off about his walk, something off about those piercings on his lip, something off about the way he was bleeding in multiple spots, dressed casually in an all black suit with the coat missing.
Zanka perked up, expecting — okay maybe not exactly expecting — Jabber to maybe, NOT have cuts and a few bruises all over?
But alas, despite his injuries he smiled wide, with all those teeth and sat in Zanka’s chair like he was fine. He acted fine.
“What…the fuck? Jabber….”
Jabber blinked as if he wasn’t understanding.
“Zanka… what the fuck?” He quoted back, slightly mocking, but tilting his head, dreads falling to the side.
“No like, why are you… bleeding? Did something happen…?”
The blonde and brown male asked, hands slowly reaching for his stencil, the one he had prepared earlier, taking into account Jabber’s idea when he sketched on his break.
His eyes never left the man, but never made direct contact, at least not until his voice rose into a laugh and an audible smirk.
“Ohhh? Are you worried about me, Mr. Bad Attitude?”
He deflected the direct question.
“Well wouldn’t anyone wonder about the absolute BEATING you look like you took?”
Zanka could ALSO, deflect questions, especially related to anything remotely romantical or flirty.
Whatever, it’s not like he cared that much. Enough to keep preying. Too much a drag.
“Anyway… where’s this tattoo going.”
Zanka rolled up his sleeves and Jabbers eyes trailed him.
“My shoulder.”
He replied, smirking for absolutely no reason.
“Fine, roll over and get comfortable, it’s gonna take two, 2 hour sessions.”
Jabber hummed an audibly exited hum, and Zanka seriously wondered why he had this guy as a returning customer, because even from the beginning the first tattoo he requested was the most painful one.
Just of course.
Jabber always smiled at the pain, and sighed contently.
He rolled over just as the man asked, before Zanka prepped his skin and found a comfortable position resting his arm against Jabbers annoyingly and noticeably large muscled one.
He didn’t even know why he’d notice, maybe to compare. Like said, and known, he wasn’t weak but he definitely was a bit skinny, nonetheless Zanka still got his multitude of tattoos, mainly on his arms either way.
Jabber flexed to stretch, before Zanka sighed, and with the stencil on began to tattoo the ink into his darker skin like he’d done many times before, for Wonger’s multiple OTHER tattoos done by him.
As the ink gun buzzed with life, Zanka couldn’t help but wonder why, this guy who seemed to be so infatuated with his tattoos, and his eyes, because he was staring at them even now, had multiple cuts and bruises.
Had he gotten into a fight? Zanka knew from the few long long conversations they had,
Jabber had a boss that he wasn’t the biggest fan of, but, then again that’s a boss, not a what, high school bully, or yakuza? Surely that wouldn’t be the cause. So he ruled it out.
It dawned on him right as he wiped the excess ink and continued his lines, blue gaze focused on skin as he hummed slightly aloud. Oops.
Jabber had never really told him what he did for work.
It had him seriously wondering.
But he wasn’t exactly the type of person to CARE, so he left the thought in the figurative ‘I don’t care, for later’ folder of his brain. He’d forget about the cuts by tomorrow and he knew it.
All Zanka was there for was to tattoo, and maybe, indulge Jabber in conversation, as the two began.
They rambled on about life, and pain, and poison, and food and whatever.
Somehow,
Zanka had gotten himself into getting drinks with Jabber tomorrow night, and he hadn’t even registered how.
He’s seriously been signing himself up for straight crap, hasn’t he?
Great.
He he’s a bill to pay, a tattoo to finish, small talk with Riyo to be made, a bus ride home to take, and now what was ALMOST a date with a client. But, it’s only an almost, and Zanka didn’t exactly feel like saying it was a definite yes until he was pressured in the moment to go.
He also, found himself finishing the first bit of Jabber Wonger’s tattoo lost in thought, mind still stuck on his cuts, and his work, even after the man leaves with a wink and a promise of tomorrow.
“Bills on me, baby!”
Fuck. Who was Jabber?
And who the hell was Zanka going to be after a night out with him?
Drunk, stupid, and crazy that’s for sure.