After watching someone skate past him backwards, Jace decided that this was nothing to be scared of. He walked into the group and sat on the floor, fiddling with one of the screws on his mask. As the lighter flicked on, Jace took the opportunity to inspect the faces of the people here. They were all wearing some kind of bandana or a hood. He let out a small sigh as he relaxed himself. Apparently some of the others knew each other, but Jace didn’t recognise anyone. If he saw their art, or heard their name he might know it, but apart from that, he didn’t take the time to recognise people whose face he couldn’t see. He got a screwdriver out of his pocket and started fiddling with his grappler, when he heard someone approaching. He slid himself back against the wall in an attempt to hide himself in case of an encounter. It was when a woman with a bandana walked in that he let his guard down a bit. ‘She must be the sprayer that called us here’ He thought as he smiled under his mask. Jace was a little surprised as to the reasoning he had been called here. He had always painted because that’s what he loved, so this was a bit of a different turn to he was used to. He listened as others spoke, wondering in silence what he should do. Should he accept? Or just stay the way he is now. Would this take his freedom away? With a grin under his mask he stood up and walked over to the woman, who seemed to have an air of seniority to her.

“I’m in, but I will do things my way.” He said, not in an angry or assertive tone, but in a playful one. He weighed up the options, and this seemed like something that could help him spread his wings. He then heard one of the sprayers, a girl, asking a lot of questions. He found it strange that she was asking so many questions, but it was when he heard the last bit that he felt some sympathy. He knew what it was like to be lower than the rest. Granted, her situation seemed much worse than his was; he was just in a bit of a lower class spot. He was lucky enough to have come into a good daytime job, tinkering and fixing things for people around his area. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to move him out of the slums and into an apartment. He didn’t want to be a burden to his parents, so he left about 6 months ago.

“If you need a place to sleep, I have a couch in my apartment” He said to her with a warm tone. “It’s not much, but it’s got a good view.” He was being polite, offering what he could.