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Who is this sassy lost child
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Cristo let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, some of the tension easing from him as Kimiko revealed herself and Abby squeezed his arm reassuringly. His relief was quickly followed by a trickle of embarrassment; calling out to the mute girl to identify herself verbally was the kind of faux pas that would have left him socially paralyzed for a good while back home. It still tried to, the instinctive urge to retreat welling up, but Abby was talking to him, drawing him back into interaction, and he swallowed the embarrassed lump in his throat and tried to focus on her.

"I didn't see anything that looked like stationery, no. It's mostly toiletries and some tools here and there, but everything is labeled so we can keep looking...?"

Truth be told, Cristóbal was starting to tire of the warehouse and inching around in the dark, but he could weather it for a while longer if he needed to. Abby needed him to be strong. She hadn't said as much, but they'd known each other long enough that he could tell. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze in response and looked back to Kimiko to see if she could indicate whether she wanted to stay and search for something to write with.
"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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Prepare to Burn · The Warehouse