What are you doing? Much asked himself as she left, wondering if he should call her back, laugh it off, offer to head outside and help with the pots now, because of course he could still move pots. It really wasn't that bad - but the thought of Qebhet taking his hand in hers made him want to -
What? Made him what? Want to do everything in his power to make happen?
Stop, he pleaded with himself. Just stop it, okay? This wasn't right.
He was wrestling with what he wanted and what he should want and what he definitely shouldn't when the cat found him, a gentle bump against his leg, and Much reached down to offer his hand for a scratch, trying to let the soft fur of the creature's back sooth him. He felt like... he couldn't be so bad if cats still liked him, right?
He smiled at Qebhet as she sat back down next to him, his lip caught between his teeth even though he smiled. Much uncurled his hand, because if he wasn't sure if he should want to be touched, and if he wasn't sure if he should want to be looked after, he was sure that he wanted someone else to take the decision out of his hands, so hold out your hand was a command he was willingly going to follow.
"It sounds... tasty," he said, trying to keep it (and himself) lighthearted. "I'll try not to eat it."