Phantom Hollow it's a dangerous business, going out your door

Unintentionally, the boy moved straight towards the one he sought to avoid now— he couldn't bring himself to be disappointed, though. Guilt flashed through him anyway when Phocion reacted immediately to his condition; he sat as he was bid, tilting his own head so his nose briefly met his companion's ear. He hadn't wanted the other to notice, to feel bad about it.
The Mayfair's gaze flitted to the ground when Phocion apologized. He hadn't wanted that. It's okay. The words were barely a whisper— he wasn't sure what else to say. Realizing more words would not come to him, Cortland lowered himself instead so he was laying near the male; a silent invitation, perhaps not forthright enough to be noticed, but he could think of no other communication now. He rested his head on his paws, ears perked, and gazed warmly at Phocion. Nothing negative lurked in his expression now— it was too nice a night to linger on his guilt or his hurt paw.