"Hey man, there's nothing wrong with catalog art," Kavinsky said with a laugh. Both of his tattoos had been from a catalog, though the one for Al had been sketchily hewn together with the assistance of the artist. He hummed vaguely. "I can't draw for shit. Like, sorta cartoony things? But it's all crap. But practice and whatever, ya know? Not like you need to draw a lot of people--unless you do in art school?"

He was quiet a second, trying to recall if Jack had said what his sister was sick with. He thought he had, but he wasn't sure. Either way, though: "'s fuckin' rough, man."