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"I'm open to most styles, but traditional and portraits are my finer works."
"And what inspired you to locate your business here?" She continued to ask.
I pulled in a deep breath, still agitated at the one-hundred-and-one questions. "I grew up here and thought it was time to move back after a while. I've been sitting on these dreams of opening my shop here for a while now, and it was time."
"And what did you get up to while you were away?"
"Growing businesses and earning enough money to make it a reality," I returned, somewhat hesitant about my answer.
The woman kept her focus trained solely on me, seemingly full of questions. "Is there anything you regret about your childhood here?"
My brows furrowed then, thrown off by how ridiculous it sounded. "Why does that matter?"
My tone seemed to snap her out of it, and she reeled herself in. There was no missing her fluster.
I didn't understand why.
"I'll cut that out; my apologies," she murmured before continuing, appearing more sheepish than she had before. "Do you plan to offer walk-ins or appointments only?"
My irritation flared, and my patience was waning. "Both."
Something lingered within the woman's eyes, like a distant resentment I couldn't wrap my head around.
Even if I didn't know her, or what I possibly could've done to upset her, something seemed oddly familiar about her.
Those hazel eyes reminded me of someone, but I couldn't place a name.
Surely, it was a coincidence.
But regardless, I didn't care to find out. I just wanted the chat to be over.
"How do you think the locals will react to a tattoo shop opening?"
"I think they'll be ready to book an appointment," I retorted, unbothered by her shallow questions.
I didn't know what she was playing at or what she was hoping to get from me, but every question felt like a setup. The scathing glare in her gaze didn't help.
"You sound confident in that," she returned, almost like a challenge.
While her retaliations were somewhat amusing since I didn't know who she was, I was getting bored and had more than enough work to get to.
"I am. I hope the locals are confident in my skills, too," I said, hoping it was enough of a closing statement.
The reporter nodded, then pressed the button and let go of a discreet breath. "That should be all I need. Thanks for your time."
I scarcely had the chance to ask her name before she turned and continued down the street, leaving me full of unanswered questions.
Standing there, dumbfounded, I watched as she walked off without another word.
While it was weird, at least she was beautiful. Focusing on that part, I shook my head and continued with the next boxes.
Grabbing another stack and heading inside, I couldn't help myself from thinking about her. I wondered what it had been about, but it seemed to be a pointless endeavor.
I had the feeling only she was aware of what exactly made that interaction so odd, and I wouldn't get to know.
Pulling in a deep breath, I tried to push against the rising irritation in my chest. Having someone trying to pry me for answers and digging into my personal life was not something I enjoyed. My private matters were to stay exactly that, and I silently hoped the resulting article would be innocuous enough.
At the very least, spreading the word about my new business venture benefited me. If nobody else came sniffing with invasive questions, then I wouldn't mind. I needed my reputation to be squeaky clean with the locals.
