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Summary
Tenna loved his lightner. Maybe that was an inappropriate feeling to have as a TV, but the only people around to judge him were his own crew, and he honestly couldn’t give a fuck what they thought. He loved Spam, and he’s certain Spam loved him. There was no other reason for Spam to look at him with anything but that reverence he has when he pushes a new tape into the VCR. No other reason for him to slide his hands along his chassis like he’s something precious. No reason for him to talk to him unless Spam loved him.
“I’ve got a good one for you tonight, Tennas.”