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Who is this sassy lost child
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"...Yeah," Jae agreed. Cass's words might have been jumbled, but he understood the sentiment. After a moment's pause, he set the crossbow down and pulled his shirt back on over his head. He nearly asked where Travis was hanging around at, before he remembered the announcement. So Trav was dead too, another face in the crowd until Cass showed up in front of him. From that bandage on her wrist, she hadn't gotten away from Trav's killer totally unscathed.

"I'm not going to try and fuck you up, if you're still wondering," he added, dropping into the chair again, slouching down with his arms over the sides and his legs splayed out in front of him. If it had been Alessio in that room, or Isabel, or hell, maybe Kimiko or Caedyn or some other name he had heard, maybe. But Cass? He knew Cass. Not well, not enough to discount any potential murderous intent (oh, hadn't he just learned that lesson all too well) but so long as she kept her distance they should be fine.

Distance, that was what he had been reduced to. An island unto himself, because he couldn't trust anyone else to get in close without trying to capitalize on it.

But he kept seeking people out. Hazel, Vanessa... he still wanted to see them again, to see anybody in a way that wouldn't explode into violence. He ought to know better by now.

"Sorry about Travis," he said, for lack of anything better. They had made a nice couple, while it lasted.
"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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I know my soul's freezin', Hell's hot for good reason · The Hunting Cabin