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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Jae sat by the door, rifle resting across his lap. Occasionally, he thought that he could see figures moving through the rain, people that he ought to recognize. The roof was oddly sloped and peaked in places; it seemed like it might have been some kind of house before it was a hospital.

The shadows in the rain slid through his vision but didn't come any closer. Jae wondered if his body would shut down before any of them decided to approach.

He was certain now that he was dying. He had probably been dying for at least a day, maybe longer. At least since the fight with Jon, definitely since the disaster in the kitchen.

At this point, he really just wanted to hurry up and get it over with but not yet, not yet. Not until Fiyori was in front of him and he got to see the look on her face when he snatched the opportunity out of her hands.

Jae opened his eyes. He wasn't sure when he had closed them, or if he had nodded off.

There was a figure moving towards him through the rain, a shape that he only vaguely recognized. It wasn't Fiyori.

Jae didn't have anything to say to her as she drew near, watching her with silently questioning eyes.
"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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Rivers in the Desert · The Rooftop