Dueling Dragon's

[Thalia]

At home she might have curled into the seat; probably she would have done so regardless were it not for the cumbersome boots on the end of her feet - which were also cold with melting ice, and would have made for uncomfortable and wet cushioning anyway. Her mouth opened to answer Aria, but by then her tattooist had finished with his customer and came over to introduce himself. She shook his hand warmly, grinning at the banter. "Thalia. Ancient client, actually, from years back."
At least five or six; time blurred a little round the edges, and Thalia flittered in and out of the lives of so many people. She only had a single piece, though it covered the entirety of her back, and her reasons for it had less to do with aesthetics and more with therapy. But art was art, no matter the canvas, her indiscriminate appreciation evidenced with the way her gaze skipped over the pieces on the walls.

"Aria, you haven't seen them? Oh, you should! Every year when the snow is thick enough, old Artbat is covered in them. It's tradition. Students, artists, tourists - everyone just goes to town. Practically a snowman army."
Her voice lowered, conspiratorial. "And it makes a great place for a date."
She'd have to be blind to miss the smiles the woman was shooting in Lucas's direction, like bold shafts of light after a storm. Honestly, it was nice to see; Aria had seemed almost ill the first time they had met, withdrawn and stressed; crushed by the unkind city of Moscow. So it was pleasant to see she'd survived her first day enough to flourish.