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Who is this sassy lost child
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Well, bullet dodged there at least. Jae moved to the desk and wordlessly held his phone out to Jasmine so she could see the memo he'd made with the author's name. Better than trying to spell it out; not for the first time he was thankful that his name was fairly short so at least people didn't fall all over themselves trying to stumble through it. Of course, given how some people with fully American English names attempted to spell things...

Jae recalled the evening that both his parents had spent raging over the fact that some client of the firm had been seemingly unable to spell his own kid's name twice in a row consistently. His dad still got a faraway look in his eyes whenever he met someone who introduced themselves with "It's pronounced this way but spelled this way" as a caveat.

Still better than people asking if he could speak Japanese for them, though.


Jae leaned on the counter, absentmindedly resting his chin on his hand while Jasmine looked through the store database or whatever she was doing on the computer. She seemed halfway competent, he'd give her that. It was more than most people minding stores got, in his experience.
"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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Hell is Other People · Main Street