Qeya River take it from me, you're my dirty disease

It wasn't a stranger who found him, ultimately; it was someone he hadn't realized he'd be happy to see. He lifted his head at the sound of his name, ears perking slightly as he caught sight of Outlander. The concern in his voice made his chest ache. And, of course, the tears started immediately.
He couldn't bring himself to try to move, so he only let the other close the distance between them. Outlander, His voice trembled slightly as he quietly returned the greeting, blinking his good eye a few times to clear away the tears. They just came back, though, filling his eyes as quickly as the last batch had vacated and making his wounded eye sting terribly; it was just that— he cared. They'd only met once, and he cared.
Sorry about the smell, He joked lamely, wondering if he could possibly— convince him to find some herbs or something. He'd never actually tried making someone look just by description, but hey, it could be fun. Or it could fail miserably. Or both!