Dawson and Ink had been discussing what was to be done and were paying no attention until Kriss started to screech. He looked down at her then back to Ogre, "God damn, Ogre. Couldn't you wait a minute or two longer?"  He chuckles and turns back to Ink, "Go ahead and work your magic. I'm sure it will all be good."<br/><br/>The old man nods and sets his bag down on the stump next to Kriss. Carefully, he opens it up and takes out a couple of vials filled with black-ish ink. Then, he takes out the main tool. It is an old, rusty looking contraption that was pieced together. Several types of sharp, pointed pieces coming together to make one ugly looking point.  He holds it up to the light and then takes out a small file and starts to sharpen the points he can easily reach. Once he is satisfied, he takes out an old rag and wipes her forehead. Moving around the yoke he looks down at her, "Tha more ya move, tha more its gonna hurt." Dipping the tool into the ink he dabs it on the cloth and then takes out a small board, worn smooth at the handle and covered with indentations at the other end. Leaning over her, he lowers the tool to her skin and then places the board against the back. With a series of practiced strokes, he begins to tap the tool, driving the points into her skin and depositing the ink.  It was an ancient method of tattooing, but, the best anyone could do these days.<br/><br/>Ogre finishes and pulls out of Kriss, "She was fucking tight. Must not have had anyone my size before. Looks like I tore her a bit."<br/><br/>Dawson moves around and takes a look, "Damn. I heard some of the guys had used her before letting her go, but, damn. I didn't think that would have happened to her. Maybe next time, use some spit or something."