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The tattoo parlor was not a place where Claire expected to see her brother in a situation like this. And she certainly hadn’t expected to find Chris Redfield sitting in the chair, his arm resting on the armrest and an expression on his face that made him look like a man who had just made the most serious decision of his life.
Honestly, he looked like he was about to undergo surgery without anesthesia.
Claire sat a few steps away, her legs crossed and her arms folded across her chest. For a good five minutes, she tried to keep a straight face. She failed. She snorted with laughter.
Chris immediately looked at her through narrowed eyes.
“What?”
Claire covered her mouth with her hand.
“Nothing.”
“You’re laughing.”
“I’m not.”
“Claire.”
This time, she giggled even louder.
“You look ridiculous.”
Chris let out a heavy sigh and turned his attention back toward the tattoo artist.
“Just ignore her.”
“I’m trying,” the man replied with amusement as he prepared his equipment. “But it’s not easy.”
Claire grinned.
“See? Even he thinks you look ridiculous.”
“He didn’t say that.”
“He didn’t have to.”
Chris shook his head.
He was twenty-two and had been used to making his own decisions for quite some time now. He didn’t need anyone’s permission. He wasn’t a kid anymore, someone who could be sent to his room for slamming doors or yelling at his little sister. He was a grown man who got to decide what he did with his own life.
And yet sixteen-year-old Claire, sitting a few feet away, could still make him feel exactly like he had when he was fifteen and trying to convince their parents that he hadn’t been the one who broke the garage window.
The tattoo was supposed to be simple. Small. Nothing too elaborate.
Chris had thought about it for a long time. He didn’t want something he might regret later. Eventually, he’d settled on a symbol that meant something to him, though he had no intention of explaining exactly what it meant to anyone.
Claire, of course, knew that Chris had been thinking about it for weeks. She also knew that the closer the appointment got, the more her brother pretended he wasn’t nervous.
Which was absolutely hilarious.
“You can still back out,” she said.
Chris shot her a look.
“I’m not backing out.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because you have this look like you want to escape through the window.”
“I don’t want to escape.”
“Yet.”
Chris clenched his jaw.
Claire smiled innocently.
“Just saying.”
“You don’t even have a driver’s license.”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Nothing. I’m just reminding you that you’re sixteen and you’re only here because I had no one to leave you with at home.”
Claire raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t leave me at home because I said I wanted to come.”
“Exactly.”
“So I’m here because I wanted to be.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Love you too.”
Chris shook his head, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Claire noticed immediately.
“You smiled.”
“No.”
“You smiled!”
“Claire.”
“Chris!”
“Stop.”
“No.”
For a moment, they stared at each other in silence. Finally, Chris looked away, and Claire giggled under her breath.
Claire particularly enjoyed teasing Chris whenever she could tell he was trying to keep a serious face. Her older brother was definitely an easy target.
The tattoo artist finished setting up.
“All right. Ready?”
Chris looked at him.
“Yeah.”
Claire leaned forward slightly.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Because you can still say that—”
“Claire.”
“Okay, okay.”
The tattoo artist pressed the machine against his skin. The buzzing immediately filled the room.
Chris went rigid.
Claire looked at his face.
And then something terrible happened.
She started laughing.
Not loudly. At first, it was just a quiet snort, but that was enough.
Chris glanced at her.
“What now?”
“Nothing.”
“Claire.”
“Your face.”
“What about my face?”
“That face.”
“What face?”
“That one.”
“Which one?”
“Like someone just told you that you have an exam tomorrow that you didn’t study for.”
Chris frowned.
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Claire looked at his arm.
“Really?”
“No.”
The machine buzzed again.
Chris didn’t even flinch. Claire watched him with growing amusement.
“You look like you’re trying to survive an interrogation.”
“I’m just sitting here.”
“Very heroic.”
“Can you stop?”
“No.”
The tattoo artist snorted with laughter.
“Is your sister always like this?”
Chris answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
Claire smiled proudly.
“I’m the best sister.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“And yet you brought me with you.”
“Because you wanted to come.”
“And I made the right choice.”
Chris didn’t say anything for a moment.
Claire watched him with a smile. Even though she kept joking around, she was genuinely interested in what he was doing. Chris was her older brother, her closest family. His decisions naturally mattered to her. Especially something like this.
Claire remembered looking up to Chris when she was little. He was older, bigger, stronger. He could fix things that seemed impossible to her. He could open jars she couldn’t budge. He knew how to change a tire. He knew how to start a fire. Even when he didn’t know how to do something, he usually kept trying until he found a way.
And now that same Chris was sitting in front of her with the expression of a man fighting an internal battle with his own arm.
Claire tilted her head.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Do you actually like it?”
Chris looked at the design.
“Yeah.”
This time, he answered without hesitation.
Claire’s expression softened.
“Why?”
Chris was silent for a moment. He wasn’t particularly good at explaining his feelings. He never had been. It was much easier for him to do something than to say what he was actually thinking.
“Because I want it.”
Claire smiled slightly.
“That’s a very deep answer.”
“You asked.”
“I know.”
Chris looked at her.
“Not everything needs a complicated explanation.”
“I know.”
Claire rested her chin on her hand.
“I just wanted to know.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my brother.”
Chris stared at her for a moment without saying anything.
Then his expression softened.
“I know.”
The tattoo artist continued working, and this time Claire stayed quiet. At least for about thirty seconds.
“Does it hurt?”
Chris sighed.
“A little.”
“Aha!”
“What?”
“So it does hurt.”
“I said a little.”
“So it hurts.”
“Claire.”
“I told you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I told you you’d pretend to be tough.”
“I’m not pretending.”
“Chris, your arm is stiff as a board.”
“Because I don’t want to move.”
“Sure.”
Chris clenched his teeth. Claire started laughing again.
This time, she couldn’t stop herself.
Chris looked at her with exaggerated offense.
“You really are terrible.”
“I know.”
“I should’ve come alone.”
“You wouldn’t have survived without me.”
“I would’ve survived.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Chris.”
“You’re sixteen.”
“So?”
“You should act more mature.”
Claire stared at him for a moment.
“Says the guy who’s been sitting like a statue for ten minutes because he’s afraid to move his arm.”
Chris looked at the tattoo artist.
“Can we put her up for adoption?”
“Too late.” the man replied.
Claire burst into even louder laughter. Chris shook his head, but this time, he was smiling too.