"Good morning Canary," Tango greets him brightly, in a voice that's liquid sunshine. "It's time to get the session started! We've got cows to feed and a chicken-barbeque-ificator to make."
He ducks out of the house he built, with materials he gathered while Jimmy was out begging for a bucket of water. He hasn't once brought this up. He hasn't once reminded Jimmy he isn't being very helpful, or told him he makes dumb decisions. He hasn't made Jimmy the butt of a joke, unless the joke is about both of them.
Jimmy stands and stretches. The house is full of the smell of food, which is funny because Tango says he can't cook. Just like how he says he can't build, except he built their house, and Impulse used to gush about the crazy things Tango would build when they were in the Southlands together. Jimmy wonders what people have told Tango about him. He knows the canary thing, obviously. Does he know they're doomed, because he's here?
It's not that Jimmy feels useless, or pathetic. It's just that, well, he's used to people bringing it up by now, isn't he? It's a fun game. Remind Jimmy he's a bit useless at times. Except Tango isn't playing along.
Jimmy grabs the finished chicken from the furnace and eats his breakfast while he walks. Tango is replanting some wheat in the garden and muttering to himself as he works. He can't go mining, he's too vulnerable. Except he went down into the mines yesterday when Jimmy was taking damage, to make sure he was okay.
There's a lot of things that Tango can't do.
He can't cook. He can't build. He can't mine. He can't fight.
There's a lot of things that Tango won't do, too.
He won't play along. He won't hold things against Jimmy. He won't remind him he's kind of useless sometimes.
Jimmy wonders what else Tango can't, won't, do.
Tango looks up from the wheat field and cuts off his muttering with a nervous laugh.
"Oh hey Canary! Welcome to the land of the living." He hands Jimmy a few pieces of wheat. "Thanks for getting those cows yesterday, by the way! That's gonna be a life saver later."
Jimmy smiles and laughs. It's weird, being congratulated like this. It's not that he isn't loved, or has never gotten praise. It's just that most people aren't so forward with it. Genuine. Jimmy can't take a compliment. He's never had to before. He's used to digging for them through veiled words and backhanded fondness.
"Well hey, don't worry about it big man," Jimmy stammers. "You know I've got us covered."
"Well at least one of us knows what he's doing, right?" Tango laughs, and once again Jimmy feels like he's being washed in liquid sunlight.
Tango can't do a lot of things. He can't build a house. He can't cook. He can't mine.
Tango won't do even more. He won't put Jimmy in his place. He won't play along. He won't acknowledge his own accomplishments.
Maybe they really were made for each other. Maybe, for once, the universe knew what it was doing when it tied their souls with string.
Jimmy wanders back to the pen to feed the cows. He wonders if the canary is ever fond of the coal mine, if the dark halls and cold stone bring it comfort before the end. He wonders if the mine is ever fond of the birdsong, if it ever regrets it's choking embrace.
There's a lot of things Tango can't do. Jimmy wonders what they can't do together.
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