He eventually tells her what the tattoos mean and it is nothing like she had expected. She loves that about him, that he will always be a mystery for her to decipher, that there will always be more layers to him for her to uncover. She doesn't remeraber how long ago he'd finished teling her the story, but she knows she had been staring at them for a while after he was done, her head resting on his chest, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as they sat on the couch in the living room. Her eyes were fixated at the swirling colors on his forearm, memorizing the delicate design that had longed mystified her. Her fingertips traced gently along the flowing lines against his warm skin, over and over until she felt him stir slightly beneath her and pull his arm back slightly. She looks up at him, confused, worried that she must have upset him somehow, but to her relief he is smiling, his eyes watching her lovingly, "that tickles," he whispers with a giggle. She drops her head against his shoulder and laughs.