The art of tattooing fell into the same relaxing buzz as usual. It was one of those noises that Tanya didn't have passive thoughts through—like white noise, or the brown noise Tanya had always preferred to use to try and sleep on anxiety-fuelled nights.

She recounted that story to a far quieter Marcy, who took a break from her gritted teeth to smile at the right parts and ask questions that Tanya could never quite remember the answers to.

Slowly, the design took shape. After tattoo after tattoo of practice of Tanya's Vitality capabilities and design after design of Marcy's mixing console, each stroke felt familiar. In this moment, Tanya was so thankful for those gruelling nights. She thanked herself for every time she'd wanted to give up and hadn't, because she was confident this would use about three-quarters of her Vitality and that gave her wriggle room to make any changes she found in the moment.

She was just getting the itch to add a handle to the top when Marcy said. "You know how you mentioned breaks?"

Tanya pulled the tattoo gun back, and Marcy let out a breath.

"I think I'm going to need one."

Tanya placed the tattoo gun to one side, seeing Marcy admire herself in the window reflection out of the corner of her eye. It reminded her of Adder and the snake, but for the first time, instead of it coiling doubt in her stomach, she just let the memory pass her by. It was strange—that level of separation—she'd had it for memories from before the apocalypse for so long now, but this was the first since that had that same cinematic feel.

"Ooo," Marcy said, waking Pete from his slumber. He snapped awake, startled, then looked around for anyone who might have noticed. Dante had the tact not to visibly notice.

Real jumpy kid, ain't he?

Tanya and Pete met eyes, but instead of a knowing grin, Tanya followed Dante's lead and looked back down. She rinsed her inky hands in the square bucket they'd repurposed as a sink and with a bottle of collected water until it ran clean.

"I like it," Dante said.

"I suppose it isn't too bad," Pete added.

Tanya smiled into the bucket, seeing her dimples in the reflection. It was nice having new people around. She'd gotten so used to it being just her, then Mrs Eceer, then Ishita and Olena and Boris. Each new person added a whole host of new dynamics, and Pete's idiosyncrasies made that true tenfold.

The two men were commenting on elements of the design back and forth as Tanya popped outside to place down a new water jug. It must have rained the night before, for the air was filled with the scent of petrichor. Tanya inhaled deeply, staying outside for a moment longer than she needed to.

Tanya wiped away a smudge of ink from Marcy's tense shoulder. Assistant was tattooing now under Tanya's supervision. She'd been more attentive at first, but Assistant's lines were smooth and it seemed calm, so Tanya's attention shifted to Dante and Pete. She could just about see them around the corner of this back room, now it had an arch instead of a doorway.

Pete was polishing his already very clean gun with a piece of rag. Dante was sitting in his usual position, leaning back with his hands loosely clasped in his lap.

Tanya wasn't yet sure whether Dante spent a large portion of his time studying his Interface like Mrs Eceer or if he really was just content staring into space. Whereas Mrs Eceer bit her lip and her eyes scanned side to side, Dante just stared. She found it more and more uncanny as time went on.

"What about you then?" Tanya asked. "What's it like at the old Tesco?"

"Oh joy, questions," muttered Pete, leaning in to polish more vigorously.

He was met with a swift elbow from Dante.

Pete shuffled away on the sofa, indignant. "Oi, what?"

Dante just rolled his eyes, leaning back into the sofa.

The silence stretched long enough that Tanya gave up on an answer.

"It's fine," Dante eventually said. "They feed us well—"

"Not as well as the family, though," Pete interjected bitterly.

Dante shrugged like he'd not even questioned it. "Place to sleep and backup when things go south."

"Monsters?" Tanya asked.

"Attempted Robberies," Dante replied.

"Keyword: attempted," Pete grinned.

"They have really good safety protocols," Marcy said through gritted teeth. The tattoo gun buzzed up and down her shoulder.

"Oh, don't get me started on Benowitz's fucking safety protocols. Waking us up in the middle of the night, locking the place down, storing the weapons exactly how he says—"

Tanya must have looked as confused as she felt because Marcy whispered, "They make us do drills."

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Tanya wondered why she was whispering until she finished the sentence, and Pete groaned loudly.

"I take it you don't like the drills, then?"

"No," came the chorus of Pete, Marcy, and Dante.

Tanya laughed. She hadn't heard that much disdain in Pete's voice since she'd met him, and that was saying something.

Tanya looked down at Assistant's work again. It had started stippling. It paused when she looked over.

"No, no. You're doing great."

Assistant continued.

"Here, try this." Tanya angled Assistant to a more severe tilt, so rather than its hand straining upwards at the wrist, it was more perpendicular to the work. "I'd, uh, normally talk about using your elbow at this point, but you don't have one of those, so… you'll work it out."

Dante wandered closer to look, leaning against the cabinet with the monster core inside.

Assistant refilled the ink, stretching out its hand. Tanya took the gun off it. "Have a break for a minute."

It paused.

Tanya laughed. "I'll give it back. Promise."

Satisfied, Assistant floated up in the air to stretch. Marcy watched in equal parts awe and amusement. Tanya looked over to Dante, but he didn't react visibly at all.

Pete wandered closer, pulling up a stool on the edge of the room. He distinctly reminded Tanya of a stray cat, wanting to be close to people but always analysing the right level of close.

Marcy craned her neck over to see her shoulder.

"Oi, don't hurt yourself." Tanya approached the cupboard, and Dante stepped aside. She swung open the doors and rooted around on the remaining top shelf for her hand mirror.

The blue light escaped around the room. It cast dark shadows on all their faces, lighting them from underneath like a horror movie. Tanya imagined it like a scene in a film. The camera would be where the wall is, and they'd all be staring into the lit cupboard with mouths wide open. She sidled away from the entrance. Showing the Monster Core off hadn't been her intention, but it was an enjoyable side effect.

"Whoa," Marcy gasped.

'Whoa indeed," Dante added, raising his eyebrows but with no other awe in his expression.

Pete edged nearer to peek over. "What is that thing?"

After passing the mirror over to Marcy, Tanya looked back and grinned. Marcy was too busy admiring the Monster Core. "Monster Core from a Mini Boss. Olena hooked it up to the parlour and, well," Tanya pondered whether to say more. She worded it carefully. "It's helped the place with electricity and given us some more info."

"YOU HAVE ELECTRICITY?" Pete barked, startled to stand. "I, uh, mean… " he sat back down, "you have electricity?"

"Oh yeah," Tanya said, realising the lights were all off. It was daytime, and the front of the shop was open to let the daylight in. Tanya was still using her portable tattoo gun battery too. Olena hadn't tested the plug sockets yet, and Tanya had no desire to try them herself. "Happened last night. It was such an ordeal, I forgot it was after you were gone."

Pete's mouth was nearly watering. "So you have hot showers? And cooked meals? And—and—"

"Can we use them?" Marcy asked, the wistfulness stark in her voice.

"We'll pay," Dante added.

"Huh, yeah." Tanya scratched the back of her neck. "Best to get Olena in here to talk about it, too, pricing-wise, Eceer, too, if she's around." She turned back to the tattoo, readying the tattoo gun again. "No hot showers, but you could probably sort out a bath. Food-wise, you'll have to talk to Ishita if you want to join in; she makes meals for a bunch of people, I think. Although—you'll have your own with the shop and everything, right?"

"Probably best getting Benowitz in for that," Dante said.

Pete slumped on the stool, hands clasped. "Man, I wish we'd fought that big fucker now."

"No Monster Cores?" Tanya said, not looking up from the buzzing tattoo gun.

Marcy was more relaxed now, as Tanya tattooed the fleshier part of her arm.

"We've been far too busy dealing with people to worry about monsters," Marcy said. "It's at the corner of Essex Road too, so there's been enough people out on the streets for them not to worry about us."

Tanya whistled, refilling the ink. "People on the streets? We don't get that here."

"It's mostly this bigger group from the block of flats near the chippy," Pete said.

"The greasy one?" Tanya asked.

Pete took a couple of steps forward to see the Monster Core better. "Nah, the good one."

"Old Vics?" Tanya's mouth watered.

Marcy sighed. "I was supposed to have my first fish and fries the night it all started."

"Chips," Pete corrected.

Marcy wrinkled her nose.

"Rough," Tanya said.

Pete and Dante gave her solemn nods.

Tanya heard Olena walking outside. It was always easy to tell if footsteps were Olena's because she clunked as she walked. Every day, Tanya swore she had more pockets than the last, and more things in them.

"Olena!" Tanya yelled. "Get in here!"

"Present!" Olena replied in a sing-song voice. She noticed Pete, and her tone changed. "You."

"Me?" Pete replied in a more confused deadpan. "She's not going to go all mental bitch on me again, is she?" He jerked up, backing towards the wall.

Olena stepped forward, rage growing. Assistant and Tanya stopped her, each with a hand.

Tanya gritted her teeth. "These are our guests, and they're interested in paying us for our electricity."

"Oh!" Olena's rage morphed into joy and then devilish delight. She made eye contact with Pete. "We get to set price then?"

Tanya pinched the bridge of her nose.

Dante and Marcy were giving evil eyes to Pete.

Tanya was glad they weren't blaming Olena, but it still didn't make this shitfest any less tense.

"Assistant, you ready to continue?" Tanya asked loudly, trying to distract them.

It didn't work.

Tanya and Assistant continued the tattoo, but Olena and Pete devolved into arguing.

"What do you mean a week's supply of food?!" Pete yelled, standing.

"Can we just calm this down, guys?" Marcy said.

"I say that prices are based on how rare something is, and this rare!" Olena yelled back.

"You're just saying that because you don't like me," shot Pete's reply. He prodded Olena's shoulder..

Olena got up in Pete's face, leering up at the taller man. "Well, that doesn't help!"

Tanya pulled the tattoo gun away, mouthing an apology to Marcy at the same time as Marcy mouthed one to her.

Pete slammed his hands on the cupboard. "Can't you just move the fuck on! If I'd have known you'd be here, I'd—"

"Either calm the fuck down or get outta my shop!" Tanya demanded.

"Fine," said Pete, voice quieter. "Guess I'm fucking leaving then."

"Pete…Pete…" Marcy begged, sliding off the tattoo chair. She grabbed his arm, but he slipped out of her grasp, grabbed his coat and bag and marched out of the shop.

Dante pointed at the door with a raised eyebrow and grabbed his own belongings to follow.

Tanya glared at Olena, who wilted under her gaze as her rage dissipated..

"Oops. I sorry," Olena said to Marcy, lowering her head.

"I'm sorry too. We can finish this another time if you need," Tanya offered.

Marcy sighed, slouching back into the chair. As the last of the air left her lungs, she seemed to inflate, sitting up straighter with a smile. "No. I'm getting my tattoo today."

Tanya wiped her hands, picking up the tattoo gun again. "You sure?"

"Yes. Maybe next time they argue, I can blast sound effects over them."

Olena nodded. "I deserve. We come up with nice price for electricity, hm?" She pointed her finger in the air. "I go talk to Mrs Eceer about." She ran out the door

Marcy winced through the tattoo needle, her voice slightly strained. "She's weird, but I like her."

Tanya smiled. "Me too."

"Is Pete growing on you yet?" Marcy asked.

Tanya chuckled. "Sometimes."

"Like a fungus," Marcy mused.

"Like a fungus," Tanya affirmed.

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