"Nope." Jimmy says honestly. "First fence ever. And it looks like fucking shit. But it's my fence. I made it. And it's mine."

And he seems. Satisfied with this? For some reason? Like no one can take this away from him. Like he's glad he's made it with his own two hands, even if it didn't turn out very well. Even if it looks like something a kindergartner tried to draw. He made it, damnit.