Okay, so Caustic might be in the Pitt. Should he just run for it already? Across the desert for his lover? Probably, that was what he was here to do, after all. Octane wondered how long it would take Caustic to fix it. Probably not too long. Breaking it was way too easy, and Caustic would have a rough time with moving the delicate wires. It would take a human touch, really.
As long as Caustic didn't expect sabotage and believed his lies, Octavio would be safe from the other's wrath. He couldn't imagine Caustic being actually angry at him, not even a playful or fun way that would lead to Octane dying and coming back in the morning, reset and ready to go.
Would he come back if he died here? Probably not- oh fuck why didn't he think this through- a chitter left Octane's throat as he went through his supplies. A little snack and canteen for himself to get through the desert, the portal maker, and Caustic's replacement toes. Maybe Caustic would question the prosthetic, it was a sign of permanency that the other would, likely, reject. They didn't have to be here forever, just enough for Octane to get some alone time with him, without the labs, the games, the fans, the Syndicate. Just to be together, even if it was only a week or something. He sat down outside his hut, banging his legs with a paw to shake out the sand, and removing the left with his teeth. He placed it on the towel he sat upon, inspecting it for kinks and turning a screw with his claws. He needed a wrench or something, damn.