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Lancelot is two when Hermann decides he’s going to get his first tattoo. He calls the three kaiju over, sits up against Hans’ leg as he massages at his own, lets his cane slide to the floor where Amelia swats at it a little, playful like when she was small. He lets them snuffle at him, thanks Amelia [warmth relief a slow wave of what it feels like to be smiled at] when she carefully curls her tail over his aching thigh.
They all chatter at the first image he sends them, Newt’s [mother love fierce small loud] colorful arms and chest. He shows them what he can remember of watching Vanessa get her second and last tattoo, the soft grimace on her face and the all consuming buzz of the equipment, adds in the feeling of being scratched by a cat and the ache of a sunburn.
Hans huffs, curls over to nose at the top of Hermann’s head gently, [newt rubbing at a bruise on his chest hermann clutching at his leg mako’s incredulous expression] and he sighs a little, settles himself further against the leg at his back, rubs a soothing hand along Amelia’s tail and onto Lancelot’s head. He sends them an image of Newt’s back, [cherno alpha stricker eureka gipsy danger friends family love loss honor]. They give mournful little sounds and he hums, closes his eyes because that feeling will never leave him, the shudder of pain along his sternum.
He shows them, when it’s done, lets his slacks slip down to his knees, bares old scars and new ink on opposite sides. A large tank, all ammonia and kaiju blue, the vague impression of the lab around it and two smears on its surface that could be his and Newt’s hands.