Kyknos. Phobos out fighting. Stones in the fridge, a bed of dirt. A pigeon for dinner. Caerus didn’t quite know what to do with Deimos. Caerus didn’t quite know what to do with anything. He could - he knew it, felt it - but so much was going on, and there were so many sides and chances and - it was a lot. Caerus’ presence was almost always a good thing, but sometimes - it really wasn’t. When Deimos had gotten upset, this had seemed like one of those times, and now that it had passed, Caerus still wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t.
He put up with Deimos’ physical affection, even making himself stay put long enough to relax. No need to run from him. It was just hard to fight instinct. He ran his hand through his nephew’s hair absently, wondering what to do. Caerus decided to smile.
“If you do like it, then that’s good! You can keep food in it now! I did bring us some, like I said I would, that time we talked. If you wanted to, the lights and heat will work now, too - only if you want that. I’ve lived in lots of places without them before, but I do kinda like it, you know?” Caerus gave the room another quick glance before looking back down at Deimos. “I brought enough stuff to share with Phobos if he does come back tonight.”