Octavian could purr. Purr, like the tabby cat they used to have in the training barracks. Of course, Octavian was much cuter than the grizzled old cat...and it wasn't odd to think of one's friend as cute was it? He couldn't remember ever hearing anyone calling their friends cute but it wasn't as though he got to hear many conversations. But surely it happened right? After all, Octavian being cute was a simple statement of fact. Yet why did him acknowledging that fact made it feel like he'd swallowed butterflies? Or moths? or some other fluttering creatures? Not that it beat out that warm feeling hugging Octavian gave him. If anything it just fanned it into a flame and adding the purring on top of that...Byron really didn't know what to do with himself. Nor did he know what the feeling was, but it made him want to get closer to Octavian. To stay with him. To leave the walled city behind...<br/><br/>But that was silly. Even if Byron did leave would he be welcome anywhere else? And there was no certainty that Octavian would want Byron tagging along after him. Sure Octavian liked spending time with him but that was always in small doses. Not to mention Byron was completely useless. He had no talents or skills that didn't involve shooting things...and he couldn't do that right as he couldn't pull the trigger on a living creature. Then there was the fact that he wasn't even sure if non-mutated humans were accepted outside of the city. Or perhaps they were treated like how the citizens of the city treated the mutated ones. Though getting to spend a day free of the city with Octavian would definitely be worth being killed on site.<br/><br/>He was pulled from his thoughts when Octavian reached towards his face. For a split second, he wondered what he'd done. If he'd angered Octavian in some way. Had he not heard something the other man had said? Had he not responded correctly? Was Octavian tired of being hugged? What had he done wrong? Byron flinched then went stiff when Octavian only wiped the tears away from Byron's cheeks. Before Octavian could pull his hand away Byron leaned into the touch. Pressing his cheek against the tips of the antlered man's fingertips. It was brief but it felt good and Byron didn't want Octavian to stop.<br/><br/>All too soon Octavian pulled away and Byron lifted his hands to wipe away the rest of his tears. He'd managed to stop crying but the happy feeling hadn't dissipated. It'd grown especially when Octavian admitted that he didn't know how to cook but was going to learn for him. It almost was enough to get Byron to start crying again...but he'd managed to refrain. Instead, he took a seat on the grass across from Octavian and took the thermos, "Even if you're not good at it I'd still appreciate it,"<br/><br/>Byron raised the thermos to his lips and took a sip of the soup. It was warm and tasted like vegetable and herbs. It was probably the best thing Byron had ever had. Before he knew it half the container was empty and he had to remind himself to slow down so he wouldn't get sick. He licked his lips and looked at Octavian, his voice just as falt as always, "It's...really good...could you tell Pan thank you for me?"<br/><br/>As he raised the thermos back to his lips he remembered the basket he brought. He shifted his weight and pulled the basket closer, "I...there was a little girl who gave me cookies today...would you like some?"<br/><br/>Of course, Byron knew cookies and soup didn't really go together but...it was all he had.<br/><br/>A sound caught Byron's attention, almost like a soft gasp...but when he turned to see if someone was there he saw no one. Deciding it was the wind or an animal or just his imagination he turned back to Octavian and his soup.