<i>Man of few words, this one</i>, Jamie silently huffed, though he couldn't exactly call himself surprised. Muscle was important, the ability to intimidate necessary, but<i>silence</i>was absolutely priceless. Even Jameson knew a good body guard didn't lend himself to a whole lot of chatter, especially when the client was one who dabbled in not-so-legal dealings. "Bitches get left on the ground floor" was an accurate enough statement, Jameson was sure, but Dirty Dale was probably comforted by the familiar surroundings of Resurrection's walls. The young tattooist couldn't image why else the old codger would hire a big guy just to have him wander around downstairs like a left-behind child.<br/><br/>Not content to simply lounge by the desk and stare, Jamie removed himself from his seat and made his way back to his station. It was closest to the front window, first line of defense and information whenever potential clients came in to ask about their services. Though Jameson had completed his apprenticeship and was, for all intents and purposes, a<i>tattooist</i>, he was still young. Walk-ins were his responsibility. Manning the front desk was his responsibility. Taking messages for the other artists when they weren't around was his responsibility, as though he were some kind of secretary for the shop. He didn't mind most days, but the days when he was forced to pay attention to his client beneath the needle, the client in the entryway, and the client on the phone were the ones that made him want to tear his hair from his scalp.<br/><br/>Jameson allowed his eyes to roam over to big blonde beast again. Roadkill Jokers was typically comprised of a collection of wrinkled, dusty bikers. Not young guys. Jamie wondered if perhaps after the death of his last guy, Dale was eager to find someone he could potentially keep around for a long while. Curious eyes swept across the stranger, noticed the badly done, shaky blues dragged across his skin. Jameson frowned; not surprised, just displeased that such good flesh was already ruined with an ugly mixture of blowouts and jagged lines.<br/><br/>"You got some good work on you," Jamie said, leaning against his tattoo table. "I'm sure not all of it was done by a scratcher. You ever think of gettin' those covered up?"