“He tinkers. All he needs is an idea for a project and some scrap, and he’ll be happy for hours, sometimes days,” Icky replied. “Oh, and he sings. Terribly.” “He… sings? Like, what?” I asked. “Mostly Wut’zur songs that you… you would call them show tunes. Musical production songs about things my culture finds romantic, like love and smashing things. Or welding. We like singing about welding, too,” Icky said. I pretended to wipe a tear. “And I thought romance was dead.”
