waita go Tango
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Why bother to even make it? Because of that itch of anxiety and the way it broke him a little further every time Zed came to see him, of course. And what did it even matter? He didn't understand, he was mimicking what was in a notebook Doc had put together for him, blaze-born courtship ritual had to do with these sorts of things. With the beads. He'd tried again and again to get it just right, imagined the amber-flecked glass landing on sunkissed skin, and thought maybe he'd finally just ask Zed to stop. Please stop. He'd never want this, never in the way Tango did, because Tango had been in love for awhile now, even if he hadn't noticed. Where was this going? Tango didn't know. The under-city had claws. It wasn't a place for such a bright, excessive, gorgeous person who clearly came from long days in the sun. Yet he'd make the trip beneath bedrock to see him, and Tango wouldn't dare to take it for anything more than just the man's obsessive curiosity.
But those beads were around Zed's neck now...and they looked beautiful.
So he would keep his mouth shut.{In which Zed runs into trouble, Tango sees the stars, Cub has a gun, and it's finally time to scrape some courage together.}
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