It took a moment for Byron to register what Octavian was saying. Did he...did Octavian think he was upset? He supposed it'd be a normal assumption. Byron was crying after all and when most people cried they were sad or hurt. Not to mention outside of the tears and flushed face there wasn't any other change to Byron's features. No smile, nothing. They were just as stiff and immobile as they had always been.<br/><br/>Then there was the thermos. The fact that Octavian had told someone about meeting him and they'd thought to make food for him. And the people outside of the wall where all supposed to be vile monsters who'd kill them as soon as they saw it. Byron hadn't believed it, not really, but that thermos was yet more proof that everything he'd ever been told was just a lie. Someone who he'd never even met had been more concerned about his health and well being than the people he grew up around. Then the people he'd been trained to protect. Then the people he suffered bruises and broken bones for. None of them considered him a friend. None of them were willing to talk to him or help him. None of them where certainly willing to cook for him. Certainly not a stranger.<br/><br/>He took the thermos in his free hand, the tears falling faster now. Fat tears that rolled down cheeks coated in a day's worth of stubble. Byron felt better than he ever had and Octavian wanted to make him feel better? If he did his heart wouldn't be able to take it. It'd probably give out. At least he'd die happy and not tied to a pole, beaten and alone. It was sad but, Byron knew that people only just tolerated him. That one wrong move and it'd all be over. He'd made his peace with it years ago. Sitting in a training bunk and hearing the other recruits laugh and joke together. Once more excluded for his inflexible face and inability to show emotion.<br/><br/>"I-I don't-don't see how you could make it better," Byron said, his voice breaking more, "I've never been-been so happy,"<br/><br/>Would Octavian believe him? Could he show him how happy he was? He knew he couldn't smile but...a hug should work, right? Before he could over think it he gently sat both the roses and the thermos down and stepped towards Octavian. He pulled him up, careful not to hurt him, and hugged him. He held Octavian as close to him as he could without hurting the other man. He wasn't sure if the hug went on too long or if it was an ok length and for once...Byron didn't care. He wasn't worried about it. It was such a freeing feeling. Octavian cared. A complete stranger, named Pan apparently, cared. For the first time since his parents died, he had people who cared and it felt so good that Byron could think of nothing else.<br/><br/>Realizing he'd skipped over Octavian's question about food he shook his head, though from their position the man couldn't see, "And no, I don't-don't eat regularly. You don't-don't need to bring me food, you've already done so much..."<br/><br/>Octavian already did so much for someone who was cast off and considered useless and broken, he couldn't take the man's food too.