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Who is this sassy lost child
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Jae didn't know the sign for "machete", but he knew "knife". He settled on that and "fight", followed by an attempt at a shrug.

<You know how it is.>

Jae dropped his arms, half-folding them over the rifle but not actually grasping it. He stole a glance at Blair, who was herself glancing warily between him and Kimiko. He was a little surprised he hadn't injured her when he fell, so far as he could tell. She was pretty frail-looking. Not the least likely person he had seen making it this far, but up there.

Survival of the Fittest. What a sick fucking joke. Jae's mind wandered back to the rooftop, his and Vanessa's joint hysterical breakdown. He wondered where Cass was now, if she had made good use of the weapon he left her on a whim.

It occurred to Jae that he was, frankly, being pretty stupid. He should be holding Kimiko at gunpoint like she was doing to him. He should be focused right now, not thinking about inane things. His head felt fuzzy.

"I think I'm dying," he croaked. He didn't know how to sign that. He wasn't sure how true his words were or why he felt the need to say them in the first place to two people who would directly benefit from it coming true.

He couldn't bring himself to care. All of his anger and terror had ebbed away as he put distance between himself and whatever was left of Jon, and now he felt hollow. His spark had gone 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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Takasago · One-on-one Therapy