He blinked and glanced from the small pin Octavian held up to the light down to his hands. Sure enough they where shaking, trembling. He tightened his hands into fists and released them. flexing his fingers. It took a moment for him to get it under control, for the fine tremors to stop. His gaze returned to the mutant then and he couldn't help but notice the small slits where gone. If he looked closely he could see small creases but...he still wasn't sure what they where. Seeing as they closed and opened where they eyes? If so they where such a vastly different color than the mutants other eyes. Though he supposed it didn't matter, outside of his curiosity.<br/><br/>As for his hands. Well there wasn't much to say there. They shook often enough, over the smallest of things, that he had stopped noticing. Though he could see how twitching hands would make the other nervous. And when paired with his rifle it was even more understandable.<br/><br/>Then Byron blinked again, realizing something else, "Blue?"<br/><br/>It was a cool color. Calm, not prone to anger. One used to represent sadness. He supposed that was appropriate. Though more than Octavian's explanation on what color he thought Byron was he listened to the flow and cadence of the smaller man's voice. It was nice. Or perhaps he was just desperate to have someone speak to him. Not bark orders or use their words, their station, to bend him to doing what they wanted. No reminder of his place. No belittling or dismissal. Nothing in the other man's voice outside of a bit of nervousness. The bluntness of his tone was also refreshing, no double meanings or phrases meant to entrap him. No unwinnable situations or questions.<br/><br/>Byron didn't want it to stop.<br/><br/>"You like shiny things?" Like a crow or a magpie, even though the other resembled a dear. It was, odd yet nice. He liked things that no one wanted. Things that those Byron grew up around, who he worked to protect now, would call junk. Useless. Just like him.<br/><br/>It was a depressing thought so he brushed it away. It didn't matter.<br/><br/>"That's why you came? It's...It's dangerous to be here. I'm not supposed to be the day guard. If he caught you he'd have killed you," And Byron didn't want that. He wasn't dangerous. He was just looking for discarded trinkets. But Russel wouldn't care. He'd shoot Octavian snap of his horns and mount them on his wall. Byron was supposed to protect, the thought of someone innocent dying was painful. He couldn't allow that, "If you...If you promise to not return during the day, or at least avoid the gap, I can bring you things at night,"<br/><br/>He didn't know if Octavian would go for the deal but he had to try something. He couldn't stand to have more blood on his hands.