(3 years before we meet Jag at Phoenix.)
“First dollar,” asked the well dressed young man sitting across the fashionable and darkly stained desk from Jag. His name was Qwan and he had gestured to a spot behind Jag. Jag didn’t need the years of experience to discern the intern across from him —who was interviewing for a full time position— was likely drenching his own arm pits.
Jag swiveled his comfy throne-like chair to gaze at the framed display on the glass shelf behind him. He didn’t turn around to speak to Qwan, giving the intern a long unobserved moment to collect himself and slow his heart rate.
“Yes it is, I know right? Dirty worthless paper money and all. This dollar meant a new life for me though, meant I could earn a living instead of taking one. Could finally be a fucking human being. That’s why you’re here, right Mister Gaspard?
He figured he’d given him enough time and swiveled back, “Too earn a living?”