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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Ugh.

Staying in a pitiful heap for the foreseeable future was a more attractive option than Raina really cared to admit. But what would that do for her? Sit here until Alvaro finds his way out of the asylum after them, or some other acquaintance who drank the SOTF Kool-Aid rolled up? Her story wouldn't end like that. It wouldn't end at all, not here.

"The supply depot," she said again, more firmly. She stood, brushing grass and dirt from her legs. She was tempted to ask if Johnny had a better idea, half just to challenge him to satisfy her own ego in some way, but she thought better of it. Johnny was... he was a good guy. Not smart, not attractive, not particularly talented at anything, and probably not really going anywhere in life even without this curveball, but he was good. He'd stuck by her and he believed in her. She wouldn't let him down.

"Even if we can't make it over there before it starts to rain, we'll be near the utilities buildings for tomorrow morning, and then we can work our way down. Once we're through there, we can head back around the island if we need to, full circle. Sound good?" It did. Of course it did. Johnny didn't have any better ideas, and they'd decided she was the one in charge.

Hell, she'd kept them alive, hadn't she? She'd made the decision to run and save their skins. She'd know what she was looking for when she saw it, and then she'd have saved them for good.

Yes, she would think of something. She would have plenty of time to do that while they walked. Raina dusted her bag off, took a quick peek inside to make sure that the grenade hadn't been jostled too badly - the thought of such a thing nestled against her body still sent a cold discomfort through her when she allowed herself to think about it - and shouldered it. "We'd better hurry if we don't want to get caught out in the rain."
"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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Coward Mont Blanc · Crematorium Gardens