His neck prickled again. Why was this guy so good at making that happen? Was it just Moth's lack of experience with flirty conversations or was it something else? He raised a paw to his chest like he was clutching pearls, reminding his chest to rise and fall in a steady and relaxed manner. His heart was racing.

Moth's gaze faltered, flickering between attraction and something else.
No.
He mewed, seeming a little less than excited about the question. A reminder of one's loneliness stung like an open wound.

I was just making sure you don't have a gang you'll send after me for being here. He smiled, only half kidding.

Moth observed as Flint sat, his eyes gazing down at his paws before dashing back up to his face. He mirrored him, if not thoughtlessly, and sat plainly as well. Speckled tail flicking at it's end, hinting at his subtle curiosity.

“I think I would” he teased, playfulness in his tone. “Wouldn’t need a group for that” his tail moved, brushing next to moths before loosely wrapping around him.
He hesitated, unsure of himself or what he was saying. He probably sounded like a creep or weirdo to this poor guy.

“Track you down, bring you back” he moved closer, subtly scooting next to him. He was regretting every movement.

“But, that’d mean there’s a reason for you to run, and I don’t think there is” he purred softly. His head bending to groom the fur behind his ear. His movements were slow, carefully thought out and gentle. Mindful of the smaller Tom’s comfort. If he wanted to run, he could. It was obvious flint wouldn’t, couldn’t, give chase.

It was nice, stranger or not. It was another cat after so long and he craved that. The warmth of another cats fur, that affection he couldn’t get from family. Stranger or not, he wanted to pretend and soak in the moment.

His spine prickled with the unknown feeling. He wanted to accept the freely offered affection, wanted to dive into it and let Flint love him. His eyes closed with contentedness for but a mere second before his eyes broke open wide and he visibly recoiled.
I- I'm He stuttered on his own voice, tripping and falling back into his own awkwardness.
I'm just here to look at bugs. He said, slightly firmer this time. His eyes lingered in the dirt, trying to disconnect, trying to focus on the wrong things.

Moth collected himself, stood and gave themselves distance. Tail twitching but not in an irritated way, simply thinking.
Have... you seen any cool ones...? He offered, still extending a hand of companionship, if even from a distance.

He took the rejection lightly, letting the Tom stride off and talk about bugs. He huffed out, tail flicking. Mild annoyance dancing in the air.
“Bugs?” He asked, tone poorly suppressing his confusion and disgust. Flint’Strike was a clean cat, well groomed, careful. He liked to keep himself, and his space clean as he could.

“No?” He was trying not to be harsh, or rude. Bugs? Seriously bugs? It made his fur crawl in thought. “There’s a dead tree down by the tree break, I’m sure you’ll find some there” his tone was flat. Simply stating a fact with no interest behind it. The cat wanted bugs, he’d give him some.

“I need to get back to my mother, she’ll be worrying” he mewed flatly. Eyeing above at the sun. Lifting a paw to measure the length of the sun to the horizon. Judging how much time he had before it got dark. He seemed satisfied, not too worried. He had plenty of time left.