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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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Raina plopped down onto the bench next to Wayne, heaving a sigh as she did so. Wayne didn't say anything so she didn't either, instead looking out at the park anywhere except back towards the bonfire, kicking her feet idly in the dirt.

The silence between them wasn't exactly comfortable, they didn't know each other well enough for it to be. The circumstances that had sent them trekking out this way away from the party didn't help, of course. She'd decided to come for the drinks and the food and the companionship, and what did she have? None of those things. Booze-stink on her clothes and a lingering crawling feeling on her skin from Darius's unwanted hug. Ever more reason to back up her disbelief whenever someone tried to tell her what a great time she would miss out on because she went home and went to bed early instead of going out to party.

Raina sighed again and leaned back on the bench, craning her neck back to look up at the sky. Not too much to see, honestly, it was kind of a cloudy night and Kingman was bright for a little town. The other park would have been better for stargazing.

Finally, the itch to break the silence grew too strong. "Guess Sadie Hawkins isn't looking so bad now, huh?"
"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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I Know What My Fortune Is · After the Dance