The Rat Pack {Tom}

Milo felt like the biggest softie in the world right then, trailing through the underground with a rat whispering directions in his ear and a care package under his arm. Was this something he was going to make a habit of? He'd already sent a package to that girl, and now... Well, how the hell could he not get together something for a case like this? A struggling little rat boy, he'd been told. And he'd bloody clutched his chest when hearing, just, instant game over. It was a shame he couldn't just send another package, seeing he liked the anonymity and it was easier to deal with lack of trust then, but... this was a special case, wasn't it?

Still, he didn't need his rats to tell him everything. He wasn't human, despite looking it- enhanced senses came with the basic supernatural starter pack. He could hear and smell the kid he was looking for, and looked up.

...And then there was running. Shit. He should've expected that. And he did, of course, expect skittishness from the description he got of this guy, but still. He didn't want to scare this poor kid, but he also didn't want to just leave the bag for him somewhere with a hope he'd find it. Neither did he want to just make the rats do it- this was his job, and they were his friends and partners, not minions.

Milo, with his long legs, jogged after easily, trying not to keep a frantic pace. No spooking. He was just as experienced with rats as he was people in bad situations.

He followed the large rat to an alleyway, and watched as he started to climb. Milo bit his lip and wondered how to go about this- he just wanted to give the kid some stuff to help keep him alive, like his rats did for him when he was a kid.

"Hey now, I'm not here to attack you," Milo tried in a soft tone, shrugging the bag off his shoulder and keeping a careful distance from the other. Not in your space, not in your space... He kept his posture from looking stiff. "Just wanted to give you some food n' stuff, if that's okay with you..."

He opened the bag, displaying the assortment of things he'd picked that he knew rats liked. Grilled cheese sandwiches, an assortment of fresh fruits and veggies, and just really a collection of more solid, filling, and healthy things. No meat, since Milo was too uncomfortable with it, but that was fine. Rats were omnivores. He'd also added in a nice clean blanket and some bottles of water.

Really, in the end, he wasn't sure how this was going to go over or whether his offering would get spat in the face of, but it was the trying that counted. He had to. Watching out for others like this, like he'd needed when he was young, it was important.

Okay, seeing the human form really ruined Milo, and he was very determined to get this poor, very small boy various forms of help. Clearly he didn't trust Milo, though, and the man wasn't sure how to fix that... he had to try. If you were to say Milo was a cold man, you'd be right, other than two exceptions. Animals and small, young, fragile people. And the exceptions were big.

Milo slowly moved to take a sandwich from the bag, taking a bite from it. "Not poison, not poison," He said lightly, making some soft chittering sounds. He held the sandwich out, offering. "Not poison. Safe," Milo said in native rat tongue, chirps and squeaks too high frequency for most to hear. "It's okay. I don't want to hurt you. Rats are my kin, and I help my kin." He let one of his non-spirit rats peek out from his scarves, trying to further prove himself. Kin. The same.