Du Du’s and Whoa-oh’s
Thoughts had been racing for some time now after a confluence of fate had lead him to observe Cang’s abilities in action. He’d never thought much of them, really. You were a little harder to stab and cut, but everything melted eventually. However, he’d been naive. Short-sighted. The applications of the Iron were so much more than a little bit of defense.
They could be a very fun afternoon.
But that was an issue in itself, because Cang hated fun. He was one of those sorts like Jugo, stone faced and serious. Paperwork, rules, don’t light that guy on fire Bazz-B. Lame. So he concocted an elaborate plan to lure Cang to his den of disaster, so that maybe the both of them could have a good time.
Bazz-B had stolen every pair of pants that Cang owned, and let a sinister note on his bed, with directions to the warehouse he’d taken to occupying. The note, deviously written said: DON’T BE A BUZZKILL, BRING BOOZE. @jiiaian