For Sist3r_Sin -- The New Tattoo

[red_peril]

Illya's eyebrows raised when Ivan's driver pulled the car to a stop and parked in front of the tattoo parlor. The sign was in Russian. It was not a place for hipsters and tourists to get inked. It was almost exclusively used by the Vor. The man who owned it was an old friend of his boss' from Russia. The driver got out and opened the door. As usual, Illya got out first, and then his employer. In truth they were more than that. By saving the old man's life, he had earned a permanent place in the family.

"Come, you have earned a new mark, Kuryakin," Ivan told him. He followed his boss inside and watched as he greeted the owner, Victor, with a kiss on the cheek and a handshake. "Go, take off your shirt and lie down."

He listened to the two old men talking softly in Russian as Illya went to the table toward the back of the shop and removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Sliding the shirt off revealed his story to everyone who knew how to read it. He laid down on the table on his back, revealing a couple of recently healed scars. One on his chest bisected the crucifix, cutting Jesus in half and angled toward his heart. The other, raked down well developed abdominal muscles on his left side. These were from the knife wounds he had taken for Ivan. His boss sat down in the back in a chair and picked up one of the Russian newspapers lying there.

The tattooist came and sat down by Illya, pulling on a pair of neoprene gloves and looking over the display of prison and military tattoos. The new tattoo would be different. Made with professional ink and the artwork would be better defined. The tattooist cleaned the area around his abdominal scar with alcohol and looked over the space. Unlike American tattooists, he would not be working from flash, but from memory.

Illya relaxed while the artist prepared his inks. Today he would be getting the Ivanoff family crest, held by a bear. A mark that he was a protector of the family.

Comments

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'm glad, otherwise we would not last very long," she said, smiling as she shook her head gently, dropping her voice. "I know you are Vor, Illya. No one gets those tattoos without being crowned."

She tugged his hand towards the door, lifting her chin just a little; she spoke just as much with body language as she did with words. "We can talk on the way, if you'd rather. Maybe I'll let you buy me a drink, Illya."

[red_peril]

He nodded and followed her toward the door, their hands still joined. Once they were outside in the fresh air he told her, "I figured that you knew that day in the tattoo parlor. The way you looked when I put my shirt back on. You know what they mean, don't you?"

[abyssum_invocat]

She nodded, lifting her head. "I do. I learned to read them a long time ago."

Sinthia sighed once, softly. "Do you think less of me for that, pretty Illya?"

[red_peril]

"No. Not if you do not think less of me for having them. You think me pretty?" Illya's brow creased in a frown but only for a moment, his lips twisted as he tried not to laugh.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Well," she said. "You are very handsome. Am I not allowed to comment on it now?" She smiled at him a little crookedly.

"If you weren't I wouldn't have agreed to come out with you."

[red_peril]

And now he was blushing again, "Spasibo. You are very beautiful. You surprised me by giving me your number, you know."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Did I?" she asked, brows lifting as they walked; she couldn't quite match his strides in her heels, but she moved smoothly in them nonetheless, practiced at keeping up in what most of the world considered normal dress for women.

"I thought you might like it. Did Ivan warn you about me?" she asked, half-teasing but amused at the idea. She didn't present herself as obviously Russian or submissive, much less familiar with criminal politics; the mafia boss probably had said something about her not being trustworthy, but it was as likely because she was a woman as it was because of anything else.

[red_peril]

"Thank you," he said quietly, slowing a little so that she didn't have to run in the heels to keep up with his long strides. The restaurant was only a few doors down and when they reached it, he held open the door for her.

[abyssum_invocat]

"You're welcome," she replied, shaking her head gently as her mouth tilted up just enough to be called a smile. "I'm glad you used it."

[red_peril]

"Da, so am I," he couldn't help but smile. "Ivan did try to warn me about you. Sometimes, I do not listen very well," he said with a shrug. He walked into the restaurant behind her and they were led by the hostess to a couple of open seats at the sushi bar.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Now I want to know what he said," she chuckled, walking with him to the sushi bar, though she kept her hands close, away from the cold air passing around the little glass shield between them and the fish.

"There's nothing you should worry over about me, Illya. I may not be the kind of woman you're familiar with, but...maybe that's a good thing."

[red_peril]

"He didn't say anything specific about you. Only to be careful because you are not family," he accepted the hot steaming towel from the waiter and immediately washed his hands with it. Illya had been to the place enough times to know the custom.

"I agree. Most of the women that I know bore me," he admitted. Considering that if they weren't married to a Vor, they were whores of the Vor, many of them kept obedient by drugs. They also made him quite sad. "I like that you are not like them."

When it was all over, he hoped that they all would be freed and sent back to their families. But that was at least several months down the road.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I can assure you, you will never be bored around me," she said, and when he said something about her not being family Sinthia had to chuckle. "Remind me, someday, to show you something about that."

She wouldn't show him here, but she was well aware of the small, nearly delicate tattoo on the back of her neck. To change the topic, though, she took a towel from the man offering one with a quiet thanks in easy Japanese, dipping her head before she switched back to talking with Illya. "So tell me, what do you like in a woman?"

[red_peril]

"I have already figured that," he grinned. "I find you very interesting." He asked the waiter, also in perfect Japanese for a bottle of warm sake and two cups. "I look forward to seeing it."

"Well, you already know I like strong women," he leaned back in his seat and thought about it a moment. "Feisty, which you have already proven yourself to be. And of course beautiful, of which you are perfect example. Good fashion sense is must. Which you already display. I quite like the Faberge hair comb, it is lovely and very appropriate for the evening. And you were not embarrassed by me acting like a giant dork in the museum. You also have wonderful laugh."

[abyssum_invocat]

"It seemed fitting," she said, delighted that he'd noticed it. "I'm flattered you think I'm beautiful." Truth be told, while she'd been called as much by other people it had never carried quite the same affection as when Illya said it.

She caught herself feeling faintly warm and fluttery over him, and shook her head at herself. It was only the first date. "No, I think what you were is called a geek. There would have to be some level of social ineptness to make you a dork," she teased him with that little laugh appearing again. "And you seem to be managing quite well. "Buying me a drink and everything. But you know I will still show you my tattoo either way."

[red_peril]

"Ah, good. Thank you for explaining. I did not know there was a difference between geek and dork. You did not think I was even little socially inept back there?" he asked. "There may be hope for me yet."

The sake arrived screaming hot and he poured cups full for them, but refrained from drinking. "It needs to cool off first. First time I had it I nearly scalded my throat doing that. I sounded like Marlon Brando in the Godfather for a week."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Of course you were a little, but between a beautiful woman and beautiful jewels, who wouldn't be?" she asked, unable to not a little giggle at the reference to the mafia movie. It had been one of the first she'd watched when she had the chance, fascinated by the look into a familiar world from an entirely opposite perspective.

"Regrettably I don't do many impressions. But I do have some hidden talents, just...not that I can show here. Precisely."

[red_peril]

"This is true," he said before ordering some yellowtail rolls. For Illya watching the movie wasn't a look at his world at all. The Italian American Mafia was entirely different from the Vor. Except in that they both seemed steeped in machismo. "I do not think that I could do impression for you now without hurting my vocal chords! I was teased mercilessly at the time."

"Now you intrigue me even more. I should like to see these hidden talents sometime. So, what do you look for in man?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"I'm sure you will sometime," she murmured. Most likely it would be either entirely unexpected--as in a fight--or she'd invite him to see her at the gym sometime; either way she could be beautifully, gracefully savage against her opponents, which were usually larger men. Not all of them were as tall as Illya, but most were broader, bulky.

"I like...educated men, which you are," Sinthia said, considering as she spoke. "Cultured. Strong, handsome, which you certainly don't have to worry about. I like classic gentlemen, I suppose would be the best term, who know how to fight dirty when they must." There were a surprising number of circumstances in her life where that would be handy.

[red_peril]

"Count me very intrigued," he said as the yellowtail rolls were plated and set before them. "I should have asked before, what is your favorite sushi?" Illya poured a generous amount of soy sauce into a small bowl in front of him and with chopsticks carefully added a third of the thumb sized portion of wasabi to mix into it as he listened.

"Spasibo," he liked that she thought him strong and handsome and cultured as well. Illya too had some hidden talents, some of which he would reveal to her if he had too much sake. "What do you know? I am well trained in both of those areas."

[abyssum_invocat]

"Oh, most any of it. I'd have interrupted you if you were ordering something I didn't like," she said, indulgent for a moment as she watched him mix the dark soy with a considerable amount of spice--the wasabi paste wasn't bright green as most places made it, from powder and water, but was rather more whitish and finely grated. It was good.

She waited a moment after he finished, and tapped the pad of one finger into the mix to taste it, gesturing that he should take one of the rolls to eat. "Are you now? And what are you trained in?" she asked, not yet mentioning her own combinations of skills in that particular set.

[red_peril]

"Good. I like that you speak your mind," he said. "Ah, no. Ladies first, dozo." Illya offered her the dish.

[abyssum_invocat]

"I could speak it louder if you wanted," she said with a flash of a tiny impish smile, manipulating her own set of the pretty lacquered sticks to pick up a piece of the rice and fish. "But we're being civilized, aren't we?"

[red_peril]

"I would say we are," he liked that smile. Mischievous. "You could if you wanted and I would not object. But I think you speak up well enough for yourself without having to shout."

Picking up his own chopsticks, he plucked a morsel of sushi from the plate and dipped it in the soy and wasabi before expertly popping it in his mouth.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia almost replied to that, and found herself pleasantly surprised by the compliment, which wasn't one given to her often, and merely smiled as she ate her sushi, though she was also enjoying the now somewhat cooled sake as well.

"I'd like to hear you," she murmured. "Talk about yourself, that is."