Starglow Basin Re_jaded.

something is off.

soto cannot name it. sangre's shfiting, but her counterpart's direct. he can see all of him is held in that gaze; held, turned over, peered at upside down -- a great orange lake in which he is the single, darting shadow.

he's reminded of their first and only meeting -- which he had enjoyed more than he might share. he knew the days ahead would be grueling and without play -- so he indulged in traveling the canvas of her body. twice.

now he wished to be the one to turn her over, explore every part of her -- but such things could only be said in the glint of his eye.

the two ghosts that crowd his brain come to life with roaring laughter. the first -- juarez -- proposes a ménage à trois. he is mid vivid description of bending towhee over when niño comes to life, his words jabbing in pugilistic swings. there's a loyalty to sangre there; soto probes the ghost for explanation and it disintegrates into the cold air between his skull.

the boys are silent.

she speaks. once more it is the insufferable language every halfwit in this region seems to prefer. soto turns to sangre briefly, almost helplessly -- but then he decides it does not matter what she asked. what matters is her answer.

dile. quiero que ella se quede.