"Oh, don't get me wrong, I love a good a Whopper," she said with a wave of her hand. "I just thought you might be up for a challenge." For whatever reason, everything he was saying sparked an idea in her mind. It suddenly made her want to say screw the restaurants. She raised a brow in his direction. "How about I one up you and say no Uber at all? Well, except for maybe one that you take to my place, but forget going out. We should do something corny and totally likely to fail, like cooking together," she suggested. Although her initial thoughts could've been wrong, she had a strong assumption that the both of them were far from master chefs. "If it's a total bust and we burn the kitchen down, we can get take out. If you end up annoying the shit out of me, I'll be surrounded by knives and practice tattoo needles. And, uh, we'll be a lot closer to...well," she shrugged a bit, her voice more hushed than before, "to keep it somewhat suitable for work, rooms that have beds in them. Whether those beds are used or not, we can decide later. What do you think?"

"A woman of fine taste, I see. Makes sense." He let his gaze linger on her a moment before smirking. "Well, who am I to say no? If a Double Whopper isn't to your standards, we can definitely find something that is." This might not be the best idea. If things went as badly as they had with Jane, he'd be screwing himself out of a good tattoo artist. Unfortunately, his brain was underutilised at the best of times, and even more so in the presence of hot women. "Being a gentlemen, I'll let you pick where we go for dinner. The Uber's on me."

"Oh?" Britt didn't elaborate much on her thought. She truth was, she was already in for whatever he was offering. She couldn't gage whether he was a one night or several nights kind of guy, but for whatever reason, she was down to see where one would take them. With him, it'd be harder to escape, considering he had permanent pieces of her etched on his skin already. "You want to steal? You're considering stealing under the roof of my good, Christian work establishment?" she replied, the way the corners of her lips kept pointing upwards being a dead giveaway of her sarcasm. "Because if we're doing that, we need to make it worth while. Burger King is for chumps, although the crown is a tempting offer, but still. I say we go to one of those ritzy places downtown and make an Uber or bus getaway...you know, if you're not scared."

"Bet I can change your mind." It might have sounded arrogant, and maybe it was, to say it out loud, even if she was clearly joking about her preferences, but there was no bravado in James' tone. It was a simple statement of fact. He had always been a confident guy - and with Brittany, the odds definitely seemed to be stacked in his favour. It helped that he had known her long enough to build up a bit of banter with her. She wasn't just some random girl he had picked up from the bar - she was fun and flirty and made it easy to reciprocate in force. "Actually, I'm a little short this week. What do you say we dine and dash and save us both a bit of cash?" he smirked, clearly teasing her. "Do I look like the kind of guy who'd take you to McDonald's? Of course not. We're going to Burger King. I'll even get you a little paper crown to wear as we sprint across the parking lot without paying."

I can think of a few things. Although she was holding back a dramatic eye-roll, Britt had a pretty good idea what kind of speech was coming and, frankly, didn't hate the idea of it. "Mmm, I don't know. I'm not really into guys with tats," she almost immediately replied, trying to sound as monotone as possible. It would've been ironic, but it also would've been a lie, and her own grin that was matching his blew any cover she could've had. "Not currently. Maybe we'll have to get a few drinks in you and see what kind of inspiration arises, book you in for a last minute touch up...as long as it's coming out of your wallet, of course," she winked. There was no denying James was hot. She just wanted to make sure that, if there was some kind of client and clientele ethics to go by, she was picking wisely. "Where we going, anyways, smiles? If it's McDonalds, I'm getting myself a McChicken and leaving your ass there."

James didn't know why he hadn't asked Brittany out before. He'd known her for a while, longer than it usually took him to make his move on a girl he thought was attractive, but though he had flirted with her from day one, he'd never taken the chance to shoot his shot. It was a realisation that hit him when he was walking past her shop, and had him impulsively barging his way through the door without an appointment to show her his latest piece. It was all a bit of an excuse to talk to her, but judging by the split second in which she wore a vacant look on her face, Britt hadn't seen through him until he showed his hand. "I can think of a few things," he pretended to mull it over for a second, a goofy grin on his face. "But if you really wanted me to walk out with a smile on my face, you'd leave with me. Get drinks or something. Guy at the counter said you were taking walk-ins all afternoon. That means you don't have anybody booked in, right?"

Britt felt herself grin again, wondering if it was just a praise kink or pride in her own work. Either way, she'd take it. It wasn't the dream life that her family had practically planned out of her. Not even close. She was pretty sure that going to university for art nearly gave both parents an aneurysm. Despite their protests, she couldn't be happier working how she did. Her hand froze again his arm as his comment followed, glancing upwards with an almost blank expression before it melted into a smirk once the words registered. "Is that so?" she questioned. "Did you have something not business related in mind you wanted to ask me or chat about? I couldn't bare the thought of you leaving here with a broken heart."

There was no denying that Brittany was talented, but that wasn't exactly why James had chosen her as his tattoo artist of choice. He was a simple man, with simple motivations: she was very hot, and not afraid to get handsy, and that alone would have been enough to keep him as a repeat customer even if her line work looked like it was done by a drunk toddler with a knife and fork. Her skill was just an added bonus. "Yeah, I'm happy with it," he couldn't help but tense his arm a little as she touched him, just enough to make his bicep pop. "Damn, straight to business, huh? I thought I was more to you than just your favourite client. You break my heart, Vaidya." He smirked.

"Alright, dude, let's see it." Britt was already rolling up James's sleeve and checking to see how her last piece had held up. A satisfied grin spread across her lips. "Nice. Looks perfectly healed," she noted as her thumb grazed over the skin. "And that line work?" She paused, bringing her free hand to her mouth with a 'chef's kiss' motion. "Fucking crisp. Am I good, or am I good?" It was at that point that a normal person would've removed their hand, but it remained there and curled around his arm. "So, when are we booking you in next?" @jamesxgarrett