Short one.shot about how Julian got to meet and start working at Karmic Kreations, tattoo parlor with much significance to him.

All characters belong to me. (("quotes")) symbolize when French language is used.

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((“Yah, thank you… no, it’s no problem…”))

The saluki insisted as he walked out of the retail store. As he walked away, and the fake smile he put on faded and turned into a scowl, he looked at the place one last time.

“Nique ta mere, salope stupide…”

Tenth. Tenth goddamn job rejection. It was starting to get frustrating.

It wasn’t long since he arrived to Montreal, he got his stuff set, papers in order, and a nice cozy bedroom for one in the Université Canadienne de la Faune de Montréal. Sure it was all good for a start, but Julian had this odd feeling. Sure he had current stability, his uncles aiding his stay and taking that big risk… but he was alone in a new continent. Sure, with English skills honed at home and the current city almost all fluent in his mother tongue he wasn’t that lost, but the canine felt he could do more. Like, take a responsibility, show appreciation to both Aunt Nicolette and Uncle Jean-Paul for taking the trouble (with his mom, boy, trouble indeed) to make him start fresh and how he wanted.

He got a perfect idea: Getting a part-time job. The papers he got did establish he could get one to get by. Be able to not be a total financial drain and get some cash for himself to, at least partially, feel more independent… but it was a bumpy road… bumpy as in a nosedive straight into the ground.

“You need experience…”

“We need someone who knows how to move better in the city”

And the kicker: “We don’t hire anyone with visible tattoos”

Funny, since Julian didn’t HAVE a lot of ink. The 18-year-old looked at his right wrist: a small “I&I” on it, something he thought barely visible and easily hidden with a bracelet, something he thought it was meaningful. Synchronize you and your spirit. Who the hell knew this city was full of judgmental pricks who complained about that… smudge he got in that grad trip to Spain?

Tried to take a step in the right direction, and everyone pushes him back. Fuck it was just like home. He looked at the now empty coffee cup, throwing it away, with the intent of going back to the university… but something stopped him.

“Karmic Kreations” the neon signed stood out. A little “Help Wanted” paper in front of its main door, the big glass window facing the street displaying an enormous amount of artwork that immediately caught Julian’s eye. He could also notice some magazine and newspaper cutouts; whoever ran the store sure had accolades.

“Least those guys can’t kick me out for the ink…” he chuckled, walking towards the parlor, the sun soon to set.

The inside of the parlor reflected more of the creativity displayed on the front wall. An 18 year old tabby was all giddy and excited over her new belly button piercing, the afghan on the other side of the desk giving her the aftercare instructions and the elements for proper care.

“Thank you so much for coming, have a very nice day!” smiled Isis, the shapely Afghan at her satisfied client, watching at her go away. Since there were no more clients right now, it was time to relax

“Only belly button? Why didn’t you offer nips as that? Wouldn’t have minded checking those two puppies of hers…” added Narcisse, the bat and newest member of the parlor.

“Shut it you newbie perv…”

“I’m NOT a damn newbie! I’ve been here almost as long as the pale wonder there!”

Jean-Leon, the white equine, busy sketching designs, only rolled his eyes. ((“Narcy, please like… shut up…”))

“What?”

Boy did the horse enjoy the fact the bat didn’t hail from the French side and needed slower delivery more than any other coworker. “You heard me…” he replied back in English.

“Bugger off, veggie muncher…”

As insult-laden the conversation was, and they normally were, it was all lighthearted banter most of the time.

“Vous deux, ça suffit!” a voice spoke from inside the main office, the figure walking out not long after. Denis Lagrave, a cheetah close to debuting in his forties, walked into the reception. ((“I swear I hired kids sometimes…”)) A Montreal man through and through, he favored French over English, being as he grew up with it most of the time. Even though he didn’t have as much modifications as his employees, he still had a show stopping presence, both how he carried himself as well as mods that were on the extreme side; Even when he had eye patches due to his eyeball ink he didn’t stop him of having a commanding and intimidating image.

((“Seems the new client was satisfied. Well done Isis”)) he smiled at her. Evidently, she was the one who faced less blows, much to the other two’s chargin. ((“How’s the month looking?”))

((“Pretty well. We got a nice influx of clients, and Narcy’s looking pretty set to start tattooing”))

((“Now that I got the special custom gun for the wings, I’m pretty pumped!”))

Denis snorted in response. ((“Newbie, it’s called a machine, not a gun”))

“Stop with this newbie bullshit! Goddamnit…”

The ring of the bell at the door stopped the conversation of the artists; they all focused on the tall, lanky saluki that just entered the room. “Bon après-midi…” he said.

((“Hello there, how may we help you?”)) Isis asked, looking at the new guy. This dog towered over the Krew, he was tall, young, slender, kind of cute, she thought… but my, look at his body.

Julian was taken aback a bit by the varied bunch. Seemed like those cool guys who were unapproachable. ((“Saw the sign that says you needed help, and I got interested in trying out!”))

The cheetah’s expression changed. ((“Alright, pass on by and-”))

“Holy shit, you are the skinniest motherfucker ever…” curtly interrupted the bat. “I mean, fuck look at that; eat something!”

((“Ignore him, he gets amused easily…”)) added a deadpan Jean-Leon as the four went inside the cheetah’s office for a quick round of questions.

((“So, tell us a bit about yourself…”))

Surely the MO wouldn’t be the same as in a boring retail store. ((“I come overseas from France, and I felt the need o having a nice part time and since… I’m here pretty much by myself, not a lot of family, figured hey, why not try here? I love art and would be more enjoyable than retail…”)) he noted the tattooed people nodding at his statements. The feline liked the fact he was from the actual country, a different yet familiar perspective, as well as the fact he enjoyed art in his spare time, despite not having any real training. He explained his small tattoo, part of his life, how she was rejected by many for that small piece of ink; it was evident the saluki knew his talk.

The quick shuffling between French and English was challenging, but Julian could easily zigzag through like the rival’s defense.

((“So you study in UCF?”))

((“Yes, majoring in Advert & PR and pretty soon will try to be on the basketball team.”)) The looks and the minor changes in expression signaling Julian that he might’ve shot himself in the foot. An athlete? In the mod world? What? Even though the tone turned a tad serious, the saluki answered the sport-related questions with ease. If he screwed up, he better keep himself honest.

“You seem centered, schedule able, sort of knowledgeable…” spoke Isis, but was interjected by Jean-Leon before she went further. “But we have several candidates from L’Ecole d’Arts we can take and eventually develop in great artists, Isis; do you really want to risk bringing a… jock in here? You know what they normally think of us…” The crew doing most of the talking, Denis mulling the information over.

“C’mon Jean, he seems ready, and he’ll get the hang out of this in no time. Who cares what he does outside of here?”

“Listen, I just want to make sure if he’s the real deal and if he really is interested…”

“C’est mon fucking truc…” the canine said to himself… rather loudly. Loud enough to say it was directed to them. Crap.

Denis’ ears perked and shot a stare at Julian, his inked eyes adding to the tension. With a slight scowl, he stood up and walked to the small private studio; looked like this was some sort of “VIP” seat for the guys who desired work from the cat with a fair amount of prizes and fame to him. ((“Julian if you may… Please sit down in that chair”)) he pointed to a simple black leather chair, one normally used for clients. The rest of the crew shot a worried look at each other as the saluki complied.

“Now you done it, twiggy. This oughta be good…” replied the bat, almost giddy.

The cheetah returned… with all the devices needed to pierce; the saluki was taken aback, but put on a game face. ((“In this world, Julian, it’s important to embrace the culture to the point where ink and metal should feel second nature. I want to see if you’re really as enthusiastic as you say. Pick your spot. I’ll pierce you.”))

Julian was shocked. Was this some sort of prank or hazing? Or… a test? He took a deep breath through his nose and out of his mouth. This was outrageous, but at the same time… oddly interesting. ((“Always liked how snakebites looked…”)) he pointed to the tip of his lower jaw.

((“Bold choice. They’ll fit you nicely…”)) the feline already decked in his rubber gloves and ready for the whole procedure. The disinfection of the area, the grappling of the lip in order to assure the needle went straight, the needle in position. Julian took a deep breath, but was mentally prepared for the puncture… but nothing happened.

((“Wait… we need something before proceeding. Narcy, the paperwork”)) he pointed the bat to the desk, getting a bunch of papers on a drawer. ((“We need you to sign the confirmation...”)) he gave a pen to Julian, who made a pretty intricate signature on it. ((“…of your employment. We expect you to come tomorrow for the briefing. Congratulations”))

Julian sighed of relief and couldn’t help to laugh. That was a big ploy if he ever saw one. “You changed, my life. Thank you!” The cheetah smiled back ((“We will never force someone to do this, pup. We need to see the enthusiasm, for which you excelled. Yeah, we might not be too keen on your athletic background, it might need some getting used to… but we like freaks, and to us, athletes are the freakiest people out there, so an athlete who also loves mods is like...Damn…”)) some more laughing and shaking hands later it was all set: Julian had a job at Karmic Tattoo.

“So…”

“So… what?”

“Am I getting those snakebite piercings or what?” the saluki smirked. This was going to be a fun ride, indeed.