Oh dear God what is he supposed to do with a crying stranger? Victor stiffens, just enough to be a cue to Makkachin, who handles this like most things: by trying to lick the tears off this not-a-stranger-must-be-a-friend-of-the-pack's face. He's no better at handling these things, really, but it turns out most people prefer doggie kisses than Victor scrambling for a response to make the crying stop.

It's not hard to understand, at least. Victor already knows he's going to be hurting fiercely when Makkachin...

Well. Best not to borrow trouble from the inevitabilities of life.

"There's a lot to miss, even if it wasn't there for us back home," he says instead, trying to give this guy a reassuring smile. Loss of a pet, loss of a family, loss of a sort of sensibility given in... any way shape or form? He doesn't even know what to make of the tentacles: that's more information than he can process, and not even the weirdest oddity he's run into, physically speaking.