((Kitten Gray: Do you have any pets? If so, describe them.))
At the mentioning of pets, a smile spread across his face. His sunset eyes dulled as nostalgia flooded his mind,
“Well, I do not have any pets currently, at least not of my own volition,” he glared at a certain, little kitten hoarder on the other side of the room, “But, when I was a young lad, I did have a dog.” He chuckled at the memory,
“His name was Liam, and he was a rather large, fluffy dog with black and tan fur. He was often kept outside to protect the estate from any ne’er-do-wells or stray critters. People often thought he was a viscous beast, but I knew far better.” His smile grew, “When I would toddle up to the brute, he would act as though he were my mother. He would walk by my heels, push me away from danger, and comfort me when I was upset.” His smile suddenly faded, being replaced with a deep frown,
“Though,” He took a deep breath, “Someone fed him something; I can’t remember what it was, but it made him terribly ill. He passed away not too long before my fifteenth birthday.” He sighed, looking toward the backyard,
“He was a good boy, that one. Always a sweetheart, willing to please.” He quickly wiped away a tear, “I won’t bore you with my stories anymore. Farewell and Gods be with you.”