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Skizzleman’s never been noted for his patience, or his ability to stand still. He’s not used to lying in wait for seconds, let alone minutes, waiting for something to happen without having anything to do in the meantime.
And yet, the bit compels him. And if there’s one thing stronger than Skizz’s restlessness, it’s his commitment to a bit.
He sees the flicker of the Nether portal flaring, and hunkers down further in the bush. It could just be yet another zombie piglin spawning and wandering away, but just in case it’s not, he needs to stay out of sight right now more than ever.
Slowly, carefully, Skizz slides the special camera attachment Zedaph had given him onto the end of his spyglass, and pokes just the very end of it out of the grass nearby. As little as possible visible. Sneaky, sneaky Skizzleman. The figure moves out from the portal, and as soon as Skizz catches a hint of blonde in the viewfinder, he pulls the string.
Clck!
A perfect shot.
Now all he has to do is sneak away, and let no one be the wiser, and–
Oh, who is he kidding?
Skizz launches out of the bush, invisible elytra flicking out and letting him glide silently over the Bowl, heading straight into the opened storage room. They flare early, slowing him just enough to make a skidding landing on the moss runway inside, and Skizz calls out with glee.
“BOPPERS!”
Zedaph jumps, fleece puffing out for a moment as he turns, and the surprise turns to a laugh in an instant. “Geez, Skizz, gonna give a man a heart attack! I didn’t hear you come in!”
“You didn’t see me coming?”
"Not in the slightest, no!”
Skizz grinned. “Then that means I win!” He waves the spyglass and the attachment, the photo itself still half-stuck inside the machine.
Zedaph blinks. “You wi–oh, you’ve got a photo of me! Very good, let’s take a look at it!” He pulls Skizz deeper inside, sitting with him on the stairs leading down to his storage pit.
With a flourish, Skizz pulls the photo out of the camera attachment, presenting it to Zedaph. It’s a fairly clean shot despite the distance; a small Zedaph framed between his Nether portal and the railing,
“Hmm,” Zedaph says thoughtfully. “The shot’s pretty clear, but it’s a little bit far away, and you can’t see very much of my face…but you did get all the way down to my shoes in there, so. My official ruling is Grade B.” He lifts it up to the light, and nods. “Yeah, that’s a solid B right there. Would be a B Plus, but the railing covers just a little bit too much-”
Clck!
Zedaph starts at the noise. He looks down, and sees Skizz still holding the spyglass, other hand letting go of the shutter string. “What? Did you just–”
Another photograph slides out of the camera. Skizz pulls it out and away before Zedaph can grab it, and his eyes widen, gleeful. “Ohhhhoho, I’m keeping that one!”
“What? No, Skizz, I saw you take it, which means that one doesn’t count! And you can see up my nose in it!”
“Don’t care, I’m keeping it just for m–wait, how do you know that?” Skizz’s brow furrowed as he tucked the picture into his vest. “I didn’t even show it to you yet!”
“I’ve spent a lot of time alone with a spyglass, Skizz, I’ve grown quite familiar with its angles and curves.” Zed’s casual tone does not stop either of them waggling their eyebrows knowingly, and stifling the ensuing fit of mutual giggles. “And I know what’d make you so stoked about it, me lookin’ stupid. Just don’t go spreadin’ that one around, alright? I’m very particular about who gets to see my nostrils from that angle, and you’re lucky to be one of them!”
Skizz laughs heartily for a full minute, finally dying down and wiping a tear from his eye. The spyglass is finally set down behind him. “Aw, man, you’re a riot, Zeddlebop.” He shakes his head, clearing it. “So? What do I win?”
“Win?”
“Yeah! For gettin’ a photo of you without you noticing me!”
Zedaph stares at him for a long moment. “Skizz, you know the Zedvancement competition’s for everyone, yeah?”
The smile on Skizz’s face lessens faintly. “Yeah, but. But I was first, right? Or did someone beat me to it?”
“Well, no, you were first,” Zedaph acknowledges, “but it’s not about being first, it’s about which Hermit can have the best spy picture of me by the end of the season. There’s still the whole rest of the season to go, you haven’t won yet.”
Now the smile fades entirely, replaced by a slightly theatrical pout. “Aw, come on! Do you know how long I was cramped up in that bush, waitin’ to get that shot? Like, a full five minutes, at least! Y’gotta cut a guy a break, Zed! Some kinda prize!”
Zedaph sighs, and then grins, and his eyelids lower purposefully. One hand wraps itself around Skizz’s tie, pulling them closer together.
“Well, since you were first, after all,” he hums coyly, twirling the tie tighter around his hand, “I suppose we can…figure out an appropriate reward.”
And Skizzleman just grins.