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Who is this sassy lost child
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Of course Asha was still herself. For a moment, it was hard to remember why he'd ever thought she might not be.

Jae stretched, rolling his neck and shoulders and arching his back until everything popped satisfyingly. After a moment's thought, he leaned over to slide his boots off and flexed his feet, wiggling his toes to ease any approaching soreness from being crammed into his boots for three or four days straight without relief. The fact that he'd been wearing the same socks that whole time too wasn't great at this point, but what could you do.

"Maybe I'm just getting old and I need my sleep," he quipped back at Asha. It was easy, their back and forth. Easy to act like he still had a chance of growing old someday.

To say the day had been stressful was an understatement, between the almost-attempted murder and the... actual murder that he'd been involved in. Samuel, Brendan, Michael, and Mr. Prospector in short succession would have rocketed him to the top of Danya's list, if he was counting right. How many other lists would he make it onto? Jae wasn't delusional enough to think that just because he hated someone, there wouldn't be anyone else out to avenge them. Hell, Brendan had gone and won a fucking prize for killing someone on behalf of Nancy, sweeping everyone else up into his web of utter failure along the way.

Asha's intervention had meant that he didn't have to wonder about that beyond an abstraction. There was no point on dwelling on it, but the thought lingered anyway.

Jae draped one arm over the back of the pew and leaned back, turning his full attention back to Asha. "Long day aside, how've you been?"
"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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Happy Hour with the Deicide Squad · Crematorium Chapel