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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Johnny didn't look particularly convinced, but he couldn't come up with much of a counterargument either. They'd agreed that she would be the leader, after all.

Big picture. Let them go.




Big words didn't always translate to equally big actions. The two of them stayed holed up in their room under the pretense of planning or getting their bearings for the rest of the day. They slept in turns and talked a little, but not about important things.

On the second morning, Raina's big picture ideology was put to the test.

Scarlett was dead. Nancy from the anime club had killed her. No word on what had happened to Beaks.

Tina Luz, Crisanto's cousin, was dead.

Jasmine Reed, also from the anime club, had killed too.

Let them go.

Think of the bigger picture.

Let them go.




On the third morning, Raina had to admit that she'd failed to put any sort of plan in motion. She'd hidden away, told herself she was just brainstorming, and look where it had gotten them. Stuck in the same dingy room they'd found the first day, paralyzed.

Another one of Cris's cousins was down for the count. Nancy, of all people, was a triple killer. Samuel, Penelope's sweet boyfriend, was dead.

And Raina had sequestered herself away in a hidey-hole when she should have been figuring out how to save their lives.

Big picture. Think of what you've lost only to drive you forward. And then let them go.

"Alright, that's enough of that. Let's get the hell out of here and find what we're looking for, Johnny. We're wasting time." She thought he might have been worried about her. She didn't know what to say about it, so she ignored it. She shouldered her bag, careful not to jostle it too much, mindful of the grenade inside. Insurance.

That's all it was. Everything they had could serve a purpose. Take a step back, look at the big picture.

Let them go.

((Raina Rose and Johnny McKay continued elsewhere))
"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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