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Who is this sassy lost child
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Jae had straightened up somewhat, breathing shallowly but still breathing, fingers fumbling in the bag again for more ammo. He'd fired... twice? Not more than three times, surely. How much did he have left? There was too much buzzing in his ears and static in his vision for him to even work through the simple math.

And of course all of that was moot when a thick volume toppled off the shelf Nate had thrown himself against and smacked Jae in the back of the head.

He stumbled, gasping because he didn't quite have enough breath to yell, tenderness that he had all but forgotten about from the last time he had hit his head blossoming into pain again. A couple other books hit him in the back and shoulder, only serving to throw him more off-balance. He grabbed at the shelf with his free hand to try and regain his balance, but just ended up jarring his broken fingers, drawing up a pained whine.

The dizziness welled up, and he saw only static. When it finally receded, Jae was prone on the floor.
"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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友達 · The Asylum Library