Citrus and you, we're sitting in an old apartment building. Holding a bird bestial, that Citrus had to preserve. It'll be his last meal in a while, sadly. You we're laying on the other end of the bestial, as Citrus was holding it's neck as it sleeps peacefully. He looks tired, stressed even, but you don't show that you care. He stays silent, before speaking up

"You don't think I'm a monster..do you," He mutters, looking away. He looks ashamed of it, you wonder why