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Who is this sassy lost child
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He must have spaced out anyway, because even something as harmless as Hazel’s soft whisper made him start. He halfway reached for the baton before realizing who it was and letting his hand drop. He was too jumpy, too on edge to sleep and too tired to really be an effective watchman. Jae sighed softly, scuffing the heel of his boot against the dirty floor of the truck.

“No,” he murmured, “go ahead. Probably not any more comfortable in here, though.” He could dimly make her features out in the darkness, eyes tracing the worried crease of her brow and downturn of her mouth.
"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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