【生肉搬运】鸟雀Passerine 第二章(35)

I could write a song about this, Wilbur mused, and then marveled at the thought. It was as if a block he’d been carrying for years lifted, and his art was now inches away from his hands, if only he’d brought his guitar with him today.
Tomorrow, he promised himself. I’ll write our song tomorrow.
“There,” Tommy said at last, tying the end of the braid off with the red ribbon Technoblade often used himself.
Wilbur blinked in surprise. “Tommy, that’s… actually good. Really good.”