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Who is this sassy lost child
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Jae stopped, staying out of reach of Lily's sword. That was assuming she'd even be able to lift it to attack if she wanted to, between its size relative to her and how tired she looked. She looked the way he felt.

"Jae," he said, not feeling the need to offer any more than that. He didn't know what else to say, what to ask. He hadn't known her name either before yesterday.

Lily Caldwell, a footnote in the disaster that the last week had been. A little moth circling Isabel's flame until it was snuffed out. If he hadn't seen her there, he wouldn't have suspected. They were all finding out just what and who they were in the dark.

"Did you see her die?" He wasn't sure if he meant Isabel or Asha.
"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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