Originally, Brett had been thrilled with her tattoo. Sure, once she was sober it was a little childish- but it looked good, the artist had done a great job, and she thought it was pretty sexy. The recent graduate and (at that time) soon to be auror trainee had zero complaints about the work which had been done.

... But then she'd started training. And something odd had happened. When introduced to Harry Potter, there was a loud sound. It had terrified her and the other aurors at first. But soon Brett came to realize that it was her tattoo which was causing all the ruckus, and every time someone said "Potter" it would crash- making the sounds of booming thunder and crashing lightning. It was absolutely embarrassing. The other aurors had turned it into a grand joke, and with the hectic schedule of training she'd been dealing with this for more than a week now, and the charm had not even begun to wear off.

Brett Abraham was, to put it simply, furious. She wanted the damn charm gone, and she wanted it gone a week and a half ago.

The minute she'd had the time to spare (without desperate need for a nap), Brett found herself on the corner of Knockturn and Diagon, entering through the front door of The Inkwell.

Mr. Gorgeous stood leaning against the counter, smoking. Squaring her shoulders, Brett marched right up to him. She yanked the joint from his mouth with lightning speed, and then- more than likely against her better judgment, considering the sheer size of the man- smacked him hard across the face. "Fix it," Brett demanded.[1]

1.	(godmodding approved by Nuri)

It was one of them slow afternoons at the Inkwell, the kind that sauntered about every weekday until wizards and witches decided that they had enough coin to get themselves drunk or get themselves ink'd. Slow enough an afternoon that Lana had stepped out for the day and their assistants were mulling about downstairs tinkering around with the equipment.

But someone had to be at the front of the parlour. Slow didn't mean dead; a'least that's what Dietrich told himself as he leaned back against the reception counter, lighting a joint with his wand. He breathed out a shroud of smoke and pocketed the wand, eyes trained idly to the shop window as Knocturnites went strolling about their way. It was sunny outside.

"Fine way to spend my day," the wizard murmured as he stuck the cig back between his lips and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling fan. Just then the bell on the door gave a sudden chime, followed by the sound of it slamming close behind someone. Dietrich glanced back down with a li'l frown. He was about to grin at the pair of long legs who'd just walked in when she marched straight up to him-- and snatched his joint away.

SMACK! Dietrich heard more than felt the hand hit him across his face, leaving a red mark. Fuu-uuck, that wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting. He stared down, nonplussed, at the witch who was glaring back. And then he placed the face. "Brett," he said as  a hand went to his cheek, rubbing it ruefully. He should have known.

That bolt he'd needled probably hadn't been a good idea. Still, he'd never been slapped for something like that before. Cursed, maybe. Dietrich found himself failing to suppress a rascally smile. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Brett couldn't believe he was trying to deny it. Not even that- but he was grinning at her. And it was a devilishly handsome grin on such a good looking man. "Don't play stupid with me, Mr. Gorgeous!" Brett snapped. She couldn't remember his real name. "You're good looks aren't going to get you out of trouble! I've not had enough firewhiskey this time to let that overpower my common sense!"

"You better make this damn tattoo stop making noise and you better make it stop now," Brett snapped, throwing his joint to the ground and grinding it with her foot. This was not funny... At least it wasn't funny to Brett. The other aurors in the office seemed to find it entertaining. Especially if they couldn't find her. And Dax liked to say it all the time when he was bored- which was frustrating. She was ready to kick Dax in the groin for being so damn cheeky about it.

"And believe me, if you don't do something about I will make you regret ever deciding to fuck with me." It was hard for Brett to look intimidating. She was average height, fairly lanky, and at the moment her manner of dress definitely didn't fit her occupation. A cute, thin girl in a belly shirt, shorts, and bright orange flats was not the sort of person whose threads you took seriously. But then again, Dietrich didn't know her well enough to understand how volatile her temper could be. (Dax could probably teach him that lesson, though.)

Sooner or later, word was gonna get out on Knockturn that the li'l fawns were calling him Mr.Gorgeous and Dietrich had a feeling that they weren't gonna let him live it down. It was an obvious step down from Herr Eisenberg.

He leaned back against the counter again, still grinning down at the girl as she stamped out his joint and started cussing at him. Gods, she'd be one helluva lawmaker someday-- longs legs and all. The neighbours would have a thing or two coming at 'em with aurors like this 'un.

"And believe me, if you don't do something about I will make you regret ever deciding to fuck with me."

Oh, now would she really? Dietrich's grin dulled a little bit and met her straightforwardly in the eye. There'd no ill will against a witch who screeched at him for something that, to be perfectly honest, he really did. But he didn't hold for threats. Even from striking li'l girls with thunderous tempers.

There was a short lull of silence before he responded. The wizard folded his arms and the spider mark scuttled out from underneath the folded sleeves of his shirt. "Lemme get this clear. If I ever decide to really fuck with you," a corner of his lips pulled into a slight leer: "It won't be me with the regrets, y'got that?"

He stood straight, breaking off his gaze. "Now if you come on back, I'd be more than happy t'change that mark." Though he would've killed to see the look on her face when she realized what had happened. Dietrich gestured to the wide area around the counter, where they kept a crowd of tables and chairs behind the stairwell in the center. Most of the surfaces were cluttered with sketches, quills and bottles of firewhiskey.

"Hop on to one of the tables," he told Brett as he slipped his wand out of a back pocket: "Won't take long to fix ya."

Brett's temper and courage didn't falter when Dietrich counterd her threat with one of his own. He might be a lot bigger than her, and probably more experienced in almost every way, but she had a feeling you'd have to be an idiot to mess with anyone who was a part of the DMLE- even if she was only a trainee. Even so, she didn't want to test this theory. Going home with something worse than a thundering tattoo was not on her to-do list for the day.

She wasn't sure whether or not it was wise to trust him to correct the issue he had caused, but Brett hadn't been able to figure out how to get the charm off herself and it was better than nothing. "You better not make a habit of doing things like this," Brett said as she hopped onto one of the tables. She lifted up the back of her shirt, and leaned over, resting her arms on her knees. "Because I'm pretty sure it's not very legal and not very smart." The legal part was her domain, after all.

"I suppose that you'd like to know the entire office had a good laugh over your joke," she continued on. Brett couldn't help but to keep talking, she felt awkward sitting on a table holding up her shirt while a good looking man poked around behind her. And her anger was already fading fast since she'd made her point to the man. "I'll be glad when I get back to life as it used to be- before they used the mark you gave me to locate me all over the damn building."

She picked up one of the bottles of firewhiskey that was on the table, opened it, sniffed it, then took a swig. Brett felt like she needed more than a one drink, but put the bottle back down anyway. It was too much firewhiskey that got her into this mess to begin with. Next time she got a tattoo, she was going to make sure she was entirely sober. And go somewhere else to get it.

Dietrich grabbed a bottle of some clear solution from underneath the counter table, kicking shut the cupboard doors as he turned around to watch the girl climb up onto the closest table. She drew her shirt up a little, the telltale lightning symbol stark against the tan skin of her lower back-- it was just as he remembered it, shimmering with a kinda quality that only Inkers could really distinguish. An enchanted quality.

Looks like she'd taken good care of it. "Yeah, well I didn't really set up shop in a very legal area," he muttered and then bit the cork off the top of the bottle. A sharp, acrid scent hit him and Dietrich spit the cork out onto the floor, nearly growling.

He hated this stuff but it was the fastest way to alter an enchanted mark. "Don't you worry. I don't make a habit of pranking li'l auror girls. My victims are usually a touch older," he smiled to himself, taking out a clean handkerchief from his back pocket: "And a whole world calmer when they find out, if y'don't mind me saying."

The cloth was dampened with the solution and he dabbed it lightly onto the lightning bolt. There was a hissing sound-- almost acidic, though all Brett would've felt was a keen, cooling sensation. Dietrich took out his wand, hunching over slightly to trace the bolt as he listened to the witch with a growing grin.

"I'll be glad when I get back to life as it used to be- before they used the mark you gave me to locate me all over the damn building," she complained and he smirked, shaking his head. To think that they'd be losing a convenient tracking device! This one probably needed it, too. She had a taste for the firewhiskey.

Dietrich whispered softly under his breath and the tattoo mark began to glow while he continued to trace it. "Doesn't seem too bad t'me. They had a good laugh, you got a chance to... to be a big hit with yer teammates," the artist laughed lightly: "This'll be quiet as a church mouse when I'm done with it."

Blue eyes shot up to the back of her head musingly before falling back down to the tattoo, now glowing warm in a faint shade of red. "Leave that a minute," he adjusted his posture as he took a step back, wand pulling away. "Tell y'what kid," Dietrich offerred: "I'll give ya a freebie the next time you wanna be ink'd. Compensation."

"Calmer?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder. "Well, I guess you don't usually ink young women who know how to stand up for themselves, then. I'm not the sort to sit by and get a good laugh out of something like that. If I didn't have to keep my nose out of trouble you'd be a lot more inconvenienced than losing your smoke and a red cheek." Normally her go to method for men who pissed her off was a kick to the groin. That usually got the point across crystal clear. Brett turned back around, and continued talking to the empty space in front of her. "Nothing wrong with having a little fight left in me, anyway. It's that Gryffindor spirit!" It was obvious from her tone she still held a lot of house pride.

She flinched a little when he dabbed her tattoo. The liquid was cold, and the tattoo was even colder. The cold chill it gave her caused her to shiver, and she quickly readjusted her position. "Sorry about that." Brett wasn't sure if she needed to be absolutely still at this point in time or not. Hopefully she hadn't messed him up too much.

"They might've had a good laugh, but I didn't like being the butt of the joke. I didn't like being called 'Mrs. Potter' by people I barely know." She wasn't obsessed with Harry Potter, and in retrospect yes- the tattoo was poorly thought out and a bad decision- but she didn't need the whole world to know about it.

Brett looked over her shoulder again when he said he'd give her a freebie. That was nice of him. But she wasn't sure she wanted to trust him enough to not put another ridiculous enchantment on it. "There is another I want to get," she told him. "Wanted to get a tattoo of a ram here," she motioned to the upper part of her thight. "One that moves- charges or something. My patronus is a ram," Brett explained. "And my big brother- his animagus form is a ram, too." Sappy, she knew, but her big brother was her best friend and she thought of him as her protector. "I wanted it done without color, all in black with shading. I thought it would look pretty badass, and it would mean a lot to me."

"... I just didn't think spur of the moment firewhiskey induced state was the best to get something like that, course, I wish I had done that instead at this point." She would never get the lightning bolt removed, Brett didn't like having regrets and had decided to own the tattoo rather than be ashamed of it. "But there better not be any funny business next time."

Gods, this one was a fighter. Probably came into this world with balled up fists and a mean word in her mouth. Dietrich's smile widened into a grin when she mentioned being called Mrs Potter-- he doubted Potter could handle a gal like this for a wife, anyhow. A li'l too much of the Gryffindor spirit.

"There is another I want to get," Brett began describing the other tattoo she was thinking of and Dietrich followed her gestures acutely, attempting to visualize different interpretations of the kinda ram she'd want on her thigh. He paid little mind to her reason-- it was reasonably clear that this wasn't some idea pulled out of the remains of a drunken daze.

Whatever her grounds, it was a hell lot better than a bolt. Even an enchanted bolt, he sighed wistfully. A shame the thunder had to go. "A ram would look good there," the wizard commented conversationally as they waited for the tattoo to set: "Badass for sure, with the shading." He could agree with not wanting to use any color. Not enough of his clientele understood the effect of simplicity.

"But there better not be any funny business next time," the auror-trainee reprimanded him.

Dietrich laughed and picked up the bottle of Firewhiskey from earlier, tossing back a couple of gulps before plunking it back down. Slow afternoon that it was, he could probably afford to if nobody else came in for a job. "Chill," he told Brett with a quick wink. "That ain't the kinda funny business I pull twice in a row."

He gave his wand an experimental flick against his wrist. "Okay, I'm just gonna give your back another tap right now and you will be Mrs.Potter no more..." He took a step back to lean forward and finished tracing the mark. Magic tingled through his fingers, the yellow ink shimmered lightly. Dietrich breathed in slowly, tense, and then tapped the tattoo twice. The bolt contracted slightly, returning to its original size after a few seconds.

The artist drew away slowly. "That seem alright?" he asked with a wrinkle between his brow, smile fading. "Y'might feel a li'l burn in the next hour. I can put on some balm or you can ride it out."

Mr. Gorgeous was much more... personable today than she remembered him being the night she came int o get her tattoo. Pleasant, even, and pleasant was not how she would have described him a couple of weeks ago. More like... surly and short tempered. But she supposed that he knew his joke was lucky to have gone off without any major mishaps, and perhaps his entertainment translated into a mellow mood.

That, or the stuff he had been smoking when she came into the door.

"If I ever get some free time, I'll let you do the ram, then," she said. "But I wouldn't want you to do something so complex for free. Doesn't seem fair. Even if you did make my life a living hell for a week or so." Besides, Brett wanted him to think she was tough enough to handle whatever he had dished outt o her. For some reason, probably because she found the tattoo artist very attractive, she wanted to impress him. Of course, being an Auror Trainee was hardly going to impress anyone who worked in Knockturn... But she could try, right?

She tied her shirt further up on her stomach it wouldn't agitate the mark that he claimed would start to burn sometime soon. At least the burn would mean that the tattoo was going to stop making her look like a complete and total idiot. Brett looked over her shoulder at him again when he mentioned putting some balm on it. "You could always kiss it and make it better, Mr. Gorgeous," she suggested with a playful wink. Brett really couldn't help herself with that one.

While Dietrich was more than happy to have fulfilled the offer of a free needling, he had to admit it was good t'hear that she wouldn't take it for free. Customers were a'plenty and they (usually) paid in full, but he liked it when the Inkwell stayed within the profit margin its predecessor had set.

"You can get it cheap then," he shrugged nonchalantly: "Won't be no trouble for me. It'd be nice to ink something sensible." And he really did feel a li'l bad for all that trouble she was put through. When you start off with a bang like that, it took a while before people stopped associating you with it. Even firecrackers like her.

Brett looked over her shoulder as he was about to draw away completely from the table to get a balm from the cupboard up front. "You could always kiss it and make it better, Mr. Gorgeous," she winked at him and Dietrich met her in the eye, raising his brow in amusement. What a cheeky little bird she was.

The wizard smirked suddenly. "I could, couldn't I?" he said and, in a half-bow, leaned over to brush his lips very lightly over the bolt of lightning. It tingled with magic. He pulled back just as quickly, turning around to the counter. "But all the same, I'd better get you some of that balm," he added in a practical tone as he did so.

A grin was tugging at his lips-- good thing Lana hadn't walked in just then. He didn't see the harm in teasing the girl but the receptionist might've. Some women just didn't have a sense of humour.

"I'll agree to cheap," she told him. It wouldn't hurt to save a few coins considering the living situation she was in. Sure, there were a lot of roommates- but trainees didn't make oodles of money, and Brett liked to spend hers at an unusually quick rate. Especially now that she was out of school and could actually go shopping whenever she felt like it. Well, mostly when she felt like it- when she had any free time.

Brett inhaled sharply when it seemed that Mr. Gorgeous was about to take her offer seriously. Fauna was going to die when she told her that the good looking tattoo artist had actually kissed her tattoo! She could hardly contain her excitement- but just as she felt his breath hovering her lower back, he was suddenly gone and heading toward the counter. "You damn tease," she accused, finally hopping up from the table. "But if it's all the same to you, I'm going to tell that story with how it should have properly ended." Brett wondered if Dax would get a kick out of it.

"So the balm is just for the burning when it kicks in, then?" Brett asked. "Or do you put it on before it starts to burn so you don't have to worry about it at all?" She leaned casually against the counter, tilting her head to look up at him. "I still think your lips would have done a better job," she offered. Brett wasn't often such a totally shameless flirt- but she didn't get the chance to meet many good looking guys outside of the ministry anymore. Besides, it was all harmless. It didn't seem like Dietrich was too keen on repaying the attention. She was fine with that. But it didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun in the mean time.

Dietrich kicked close the cupboard doors as he stood back up, a small glass jar in his hand. It was unlabelled but clear: the pale green balm inside was thick with a pasty kinda texture. He glanced down at Brett and set the jar down on the counter, smiling.

"Put it on when it starts to burn," the wizard replied and leaned sidelong against the counter to face her. "Try not to use it more than a couple of times a day, you wanna keep that mark in good condition." Couldn't have anything messin' up his work-- didn't matter how simple it looked.

Gods, he didn't know Gryffindor churned out li'l teases like this. Dietrich's smile widened into an almost carnal grin, flashing his teeth. "Careful, girl..." he warned her with a quick wink., "'round here, you keep teasing like that and someone's bound to bite. Or worse."

He'd been about Knockturn for some time now. You didn't flirt in this alley unless y'could handle yourself or whoever the hell you were flirting with. "Now make sure you take care of yer tattoo. Same goes for that Bambi friend o'yours who came in. Keep my ink as clean as y'keep your auror noses."

"If you're doing the biting..." she said, then trailed off, flashing him a bright smile of her own. She liked Dietrich "Mr. Gorgeous" Eisenberg a lot. He was good looking and he was fun. And now that her tattoo was no longer crashing and booming, she was more than willing to come back for a second piece. It was hard to hate someone with a grin like that.

She giggled. Bambi friend. Brett would have to tell that one to Fauna when she got the chance. "Will do, Mr. Gorgeous. See you soon about that other tattoo." Brett gave him a tinkling little wave before bounding out the door- a tad too enthusiastically for a young woman to be bounding through Knockturn Alley.