A small crack of disgust shines through Xavier's nearly stone expression. Using his partner's spare pair of tweezers to feed a worm to a baby bird wasn't the first thing he thought of when they'd suggested a vacation. Admittedly, his initial thoughts involved a fruity beverage and them in a swimming suit. They haven't even worn the one he bought them because they've been so occupied with the egg-turned-chick.

"I like snacks," he hums, his voice soft despite the grossness of the worm, "but I don't think I'd ever be this excited about a worm. It doesn't look very tasty."

His eyes land on his lover when they find a seat next to him on the plush sofa in their hotel. Even in his disappointment at their lack of beach trips thus far, he admires their beauty in every angle and all lighting—especially now with the sun's gentle noon light drifting through the windows.

As he's looking away, the bird makes the short hop from the coffee table to Xavier's knee. The touch snatches his attention, and he frantically cups the baby's small body in his hands to stabilize it. Chirping as it goes along, the bird waddles up his body and stops at his chest. Its frame forms a loaf atop his sternum, as a cat would.

The hunter blinks. It blinks back. They exchange blinks as if communicating through eyelid morse code before Xavier hesitantly lifts a hand. The tip of his pointer finger brushes over the bird's head a few times, and its eyes close, content. "Chirp... chirp..." He speaks lowly.

He turns his gaze to his partner, still beside him on the couch. "I'd rather this be you, you know."