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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Jae's brow furrowed in irritation. His eyes threatened to close again but he kept them open, watching Candice with a half-lidded, vaguely disdainful gaze. "That's my name, don't wear it out," he drawled.

Was there a point to her questioning? Probably not. Maybe she was trying to psych herself up to kill him - did he have more on record than Fiyori did at this point? He wasn't sure. Anyhow, maybe Candice had decided to just lay in wait until the end and then take out whoever she deemed the biggest threat. Jae doubted it, doubted anyone who would walk up to a half-corpse and ask if they were okay would consider anything approaching strategy.

Maybe she had beef with him because he'd killed a friend of hers. Maybe she really was just deadass stupid and wanted to make conversation when she ought to have shot him in the face as soon as he opened his eyes and confirmed he wasn't quite dead on the outside.

Jae might have been able to articulate these points to her if his tongue hadn't felt so heavy with the lingering effects of alcohol. But fuck it, who really cared about her ulterior motive? He didn't.

He gathered himself to speak again, words slurring slightly. "If you're gonna kill me, hurry up. I don't have anything t'say to you."

He wondered where Fiyori was.
"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