Barrow Fields shine a light into the wreckage

The stranger was silent still, and Ali lost himself to his thoughts. The dark-furred male remained the focus of his gaze; an undercurrent of concern for his condition sat heavy in his mind. His eyes trailed features sculpted of charcoal and ash, wondering how he had come to be this way. He remembered, of course, the hostility he had been met with— but he had no way of knowing whether it was in character for the lilac-eyed man.
He settled near, but not near enough to touch him, and rested his head on his paws. Alarian's own champagne gaze settled on the male's face, gentle and almost imploring. The boy knew he needed to get home, but... he couldn't simply leave the stranger in this state. Selfishly, he thought that he didn't want to leave him at all— though he smelled of pack, the Governor still wished he could take him home. Even with the risk that he wouldn't like him much, it would have been nice to have another guy around. Ali spared another glance for the man's injured leg, and chuffed softly; it was a sympathetic sound, not meant to inspire response, but he half-hoped it would.