River wasn't a virgin when it came to going under the needle of a tattoo gun. In fact he had decent amount of work though all of it was centralized to the the one half sleeve he had. Given his line of work he tried to not have such a wide arrangement of tattoos over his body. If people remembered him that was usually a bad thing and it was a lot easier to pin point someone out if they had say, a blue mermaid on their upper arm or something. Hence the half sleeve. It was nice and tidy for a tattoo and even if he happened to be wearing a short sleeved t-shirt most of the brightly colored ink was hidden by the material of the shirt.
But he wanted something to commemorate his move. He was a long way from home now, away from everything he knew and honestly he was more excited about the idea of starting fresh in a new place rather than being afraid. Hell his love life couldn't be any worse here than it was back home. After all you couldn't minus from nothing right? At least that was what he told himself. In a very bad pep talk kind of way. He shook his head as he went on another mental tangent. He really needed to stop doing that honestly.
He reached out and tugged open the door. It was a little past two in the afternoon so he was hoping that not to many people would be milling about wanting a tattoo themselves. Honestly he didn't even know what he wanted but he knew it wasn't going to be any flash that was created for anyone wanting a tattoo to pick. His sleeve was custom tailored to him so he saw no reason for his next tattoo to not be tailored to him. He just had to figure out what he wanted, though he had a good idea about part in a vague way, and where he actually wanted it at. Even though he had no plans on picking a piece of flash off the way he still managed to wander that way naturally.
Honestly tattoo studios weren't that different from the ones back home. Mind you this is the first one he had set foot into since hitting US soil but he thought it was most likely a good example of how a clean well run studio looked. It actually made him a feel a lot more comfortable. Which was an interesting thing to consider since he usually felt more at home at a diner or a bar. He was studying a rose wrapped cross when he became aware of the fact he was no longer along in the waiting area of the tattoo studio. He glanced over his shoulder to take another look around wondering if he had missed someone that had already been here or if someone managed to walk in behind him and he didn't notice the door opening.
Kevin... was lost. Utterly and completely lost. How was a man with his tactical and navigational skills lost? Because he'd thought it'd be a good idea to go scouting around his new stomping grounds without knowing where he was going. It'd be easy, right? He'd see the local sights, make note of places of interest, then use his phone's GPS to get himself back to his hotel room. Simple, right? Wrong! Having only been in town about twenty-four hours, his phone had overheated itself with those pesky updates these damned newfangled phones tended to press upon themselves whenever you happened to take a step outside your usual turf. And, since Kevin had literally taken a walk on turf halfway across the country from his usual neighborhood... well... it'd used up a lot of juice really fast and died. Wouldn't have been a problem if he'd had a spare charger with him, but he didn't. He'd walked rather than taking the rental he'd snagged. So... yeah. He was lost.
Not only that, it was hot as the hobs of hell outside -at least, in comparison to the present Portland weather- and he was exhausted because of it. This was worse than Texas had been. So! What did he do? Kevin decided to pop into the next business he spotted, pretending he wasn't about to collapse. Any locals probably would've called him a wuss for thinking it was just a touch too warm out, but they could all go step outside in his hometown and then tell him he was being a baby. Anyway, he was glad for the air-conditioning, even if the strong scent of rubbing alcohol and other such sanitary chemicals assaulted his nostrils. The place looked... reputable. Nice artwork all around. Now, if he could just find someone to give directions. Or maybe a charge... Not wanting to disturb any of the clientele, he simply walked up to the counter, hoping someone would come out to help him. He wasn't in the market for a tattoo, so he hoped they wouldn't be too miffed.