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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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((Min-jae Parker continued from デビュー))

Normally, when Jae was in a foul mood, he could turn to art. Whether it was just a series of quick sketches or a full painting, he could lose himself in the process of creating, channel whatever he was feeling into his tools and come out with something worthwhile, if only for the effort he'd put into it. Failing that, cooking was always relaxing and you got to eat whatever you'd produced when you were done. If neither of those outlets were available to him, he could always lock himself away in his room, turn his music up and stare at the ceiling, and drown out the outside world for an hour or two.

In the asylum, all of those things were out of the realm of possibility, so Jae had to turn to his fourth-favorite pastime: complaining.

"Fucking stairs," he grunted as he followed Vanessa up. "We are the species that invented space travel and a smallpox vaccine and microwave burritos, why the hell haven't we figured out a better alternative to stairs yet? Like, besides escalators and elevators. I wouldn't trust either of those things in this shithole." There didn't appear to be any in the parts of the building that they'd seen so far, but Jae filed it away in his mind that any elevator they encountered was probably as good as a death trap, given the condition of the place.

He and Vanessa had decided the first order of business was to get a good look at wherever they were, and that meant heading up and out. They'd found the stairs leading up, but it remained to be seen whether they would lead out. Vanessa had gone first, since she had reasonable command of both her legs and would be less likely to fall and harder to push off-balance as a result. Jae losing his footing and falling would mean disaster for both of them if he was in front.

The makeshift splint they'd gotten together for his leg was working well so far, no signs of coming apart, but it was still slowing him down considerably and the painkillers hadn't quite kicked in. Jae figured that his grumpiness could be excused, given all that he'd been through today. Vanessa didn't seem to care about his complaining, or at least hadn't gotten irritated enough yet to tell him to shut the fuck up.

He was a few steps down, so there was no danger of running into her when she stopped to wrestle with the door they came to. "What's up? We find a way out?" Belatedly, he realized that there were voices from somewhere on the other side of the door and that maybe it would be smarter for them to keep quiet.
"Art enriches the community, Steve, no less than a pulsing fire hose, or a fireman beating down a blazing door. So what if we're drawing a nude man? So what if all we ever draw is a nude man, or the same nude man over and over in all sorts of provocative positions? Context, not content! Process, not subject! Don't be so gauche, Steve, it's beneath you."
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Five Finger Death Punch · The Rooftop