Swiftcurrent Creek This isn't a bad guy. This isn't a villain.

Everything that had come to pass Stark was still reeling and overloaded. As he pulled his head back some of the water ran down his chin, and with it, the slightest bits of Octavia's scent were being washed away. It was an irrational thought but Octavia had rested there against him and for a moment he was afraid that when he groomed himself again, or if Banner did, he would lose the last bits of her that he had. It wasn't true, of course, and the memories he had of the woman would have to be enough to carry him through. 

A sound caught him off guard and Stark's head snapped in the direction of the chuff. He hadn't been paying attention. Anyone could have come across him and he wouldn't have been any the wiser. At least this male had the sense to call out, or, perhaps he'd seen just how out of it Stark was. He made a soft woof in return, but for once, he didn't have the words to offer to the male. He was uncharacteristically quiet.