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"Is that a deal?"
"No." She folds her arms. "I'm not violent."
"You do Aikido."
Her brow furrows. Her eyes flare. "Martial arts is about non-violence." She takes a deep breath. Exhales slowly. "You know that."
"Do I?"
"Yes. You do."
"Don't know a lot."
"You know more than you let on." Her eyes go to the paper. "Aren't you getting out of here?"
"You don't have keys yet."
"Oh. I'll pack up my stuff."
"No. I have something else for you."
"Can't it wait?"
I shake my head.
She slides her sketchbook into her backpack. Sets both on the counter.
She rocks back on her heels as she looks up at me. "Seriously, Dean. I can't handle any bullshit today. If it's—"
"It's not." I motion to the sink. "Wash up. Then meet me in my suite."
"Okay…" Her combat boots pound the hardwood as she stomps to the sink.
She scrubs her hands. Slides on gloves. Looks to me with that what the hell are you up to expression?
It fades into I don't care. Whatever it is, I'm meeting this challenge.
It fills some place that's usually empty.
I want to help her.
I want to teach her.
I want to show her things. I want to show her everything.
She takes a seat on the stool. Taps her heels together. "Yes?" Her voice is determined. Sure. I can do this.
She needs the confidence.
This is going to push her as far as she can take.
Further, maybe.
I lean back in the chair. Adopt an easy smile. "Do me."
"What?"
"You've never inked anyone before."
