"We tried to be better, but we aren't. I don't think anyone could last more than a week here if they weren't willing to do bad things." - Alba Reyes

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Being a degenerate is okay these days
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"I'm the second baseman," Cristóbal answered automatically, not letting himself think about "is" and "was" and what they meant. "Cris is the pitcher and team captain." The one who was supposed to come up with the plan, he added silently, and was quietly repulsed by his own longing to see his friend step out of the shadows and greet him here.

Tara was looking for supplies. A weapon, really, let's be honest here. Cristo tried not to think too hard about what that meant, even though she sounded like she didn't really want to have to use a weapon against anybody. Neither did he, right?

Right.

Cristo took the chance to move a few more steps towards Tara, one hand trailing the shelf next to him. "Depressing's one word for it, yeah..." he murmured.

But he couldn't afford to give up, whatever "giving up" entailed now or in the future. He didn't have a plan, had barely any supplies, but he had the knowledge that he couldn't give up. "Have you, uh... have you seen anyone else yet? From our class, I mean." Of course she knew what he meant, what else would he mean? Dumb, dumb, dumb.
"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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Prepare to Burn · The Warehouse