<blockquote>He licks his lips, tasting paint, and imagines he can still taste the salt of his tears, even though he had scrubbed them off the night before, as if with them he could scrub away his grief, wash it away with his paint to mix with the muck of the city, forgotten.
Giulietta and Tybalt's feline henchman have an encounter the day after Tybalt's death. Gen, although you could also read it as very subtextual post-slash if that's your thing.
(Based on the recent Italian production of the Presgurvic musical.)</blockquote>
