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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Bridgette instinctively brought her hands up to shield her face as the bottle swung towards her, but her face wasn't the target. Pain shot from the top of her head and down her spine before concentrating in the spot where she had been struck. She staggered, spots popping in her vision.

There was glass in her hair. Her hands touched the top of her head and her fingers came away sticky with blood and alcohol.

"You-"

She stumbled, went down on one knee. Her arms jerked involuntarily.

"Y-y-y-y-"

Something was wrong something was terribly terribly wrong oh god-

Bridgette pitched forward, limbs spasming as she toppled into the dirt, still choking on the words that she couldn't seem to force out.
"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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The Latest Story That I Know is the One That I'm Supposed to Go Out With · The Connecting Bridge