He doesn't understand. Was it because he wasn't going out enough? Was he just not trying hard enough? Normally an injury would have made at least someone pay attention to him. (Which, Roxanne and Michael did show up, but he hadn't been in the bet of headspaces and had been this close to attacking Michael. Not because he would gain anything, but for the violence.) Octane can feel loneliness lock its claws in his brain. Normally, such feelings were easy to distract from. He would go online or go exercise, start a stream for his adoring fans, play some new game for them, they'd cheer him on and he'd get donation money and... so on. They always loved him, and Caustic obsessed over him, and that was enough.
Now even his lab partner had failed to answer his call, and it left Octavio feeling particularly frustrated and angry. What was he doing wrong? what had he done here that made everyone hate him? Why weren't they paying attention, what did he have to do to get their attention? Getting injured didn't work, so what then?
Maybe that was why Octane was here now, on Michael's doorstep. It was the dead of night, mask and goggles pulled over his face, the lenses glowing a sickly green. (Similar in the way Caustic's eyes glowed through his gas, he notes.)
Can he consider Michael a friend? He's not sure. He knows some surface level qualities about Michael, but the bobcat knows about Caustic for some reason, which was a question he needed answers to.
But why did people seem to like Michael? What was his trick? How did he fucking do it?
He beats against the door with his paw.

Truthfully, Michael had no idea how he had gotten so lucky thus far. Despite his several life fuck-ups since ending up in the major groups, the thief had eventually ended up here, in the Typhoon, where he had family, and people who, for some inexplicable reason, loved him. Beyond that, he even had his own running partner back, and the beginnings of a tentative romance that he had never honestly thought would come to fruition. All things considered, Michael was feeling pretty amazing at the moment, something that couldn't really be said for Octane. The fugitive had seen Octane around several times now, but hadn't truly interacted with him since the whole kicking his own house incident, and needless to say, the guy hadn't seemed like he was in the greatest place in that moment. Despite this, Michael really hadn't expected for Octane to show up on his doorstep anytime soon. Especially now, when it was the dead of night and people were supposed to be sleeping.

A soft groan left the bobcat when he heard the knock on his door, tempted to just ignore it and stuff his face further into Trevor's fur, just to block out the world with his lover. Unfortunately, there was a chance it could've been Roxie in need of something urgent, so the male wiggled his way out from beneath his coyote partner, glad that the other was such a deep sleeper and hadn't been disturbed by the knocking or his moving. Making his way out to the living room, Michael pulled the door open slowly, blinking his eyes groggily at Octane's form on his doorstep. After a moment of silent thought, Michael finally spoke softly, "Uh... Octane? What are you doin' here? Don't you know what fuckin' time it is?" Truth be told, Michael didn't know exactly what time it was either, but he could only assume that it was late.

Octane finds himself sticking a paw in Michael's doorway. He doesn't want the bobcat to push him out too, so he leans in. "It's late, I know..." Octane knows that it's late for others, but he's used to staying up for every hour of the day until he just fucking crashed with the heaviness of a dead person. "I wanna talk. Can you let me in? Or you come out here?" He doesn't care which, he just wants to talk, know the thief's secrets.
It was always funny, Caustic tended to kick him out of bed. If they even got that far, but most of the time he was given the sweet sleep of death. Caustic slept so rigid you would think he was dead himself, but Octavio kicked in his sleep like a dying animal. Somehow, somehow, Caustic was a paranoid light sleeper, just Octavio's weight shifting was enough to wake him. When the scientist didn't kick him out, Octane would awake with Caustic wrapped around and over him. The weight was always good and comforting, Octane knew that he was safe in Caustic's sleeping arms. Caustic was steady, enough to make him slow down or stop, just a moment.
He pulls off his goggles, looking inside Michael's home. "Is it alright if I can call you Mike?"

Truth be told, Michael did think of Octane as a friend, to an extent. However, the only two people he'd ever been close enough to in order to truly consider them family or best friends were Trevor and Roxie, so to have Octane standing on his doorstep, stopping him from closing the door... it was all a little strange. Despite this, Michael didn't shove the other out, able to see the strange desperation in the other's eyes once he took off his goggles. It was unnervingly raw, and Michael found himself muttering before he could think about it, "You can come in, but you've gotta keep your voice down. Trev... my friend is sleepin'." He then stepped back, waiting for Octane to come inside before he pulled the door shut. He chewed a little on the inside of his cheek before he trained his gaze on the cheetah again, blue eyes uncovered in the little light of the hut. He didn't enjoy being around others without his aviators. It made him feel exposed, knowing they could see his mismatched gaze. "Uh... you can call me Mike, if you really want to. So... what's all this about, anyways?" He honestly had no idea what Octane could've been showing up to his house for in the middle of the night, so there was a strange sense of anxiety in his chest.

Octane’s ears tilt back at the command to be quiet, and makes a mental note to follow. Octavio knows he is raw in every manner- he had no issue to lay his soul bare to another. If Michael were to ask him about his life story, how he ended up here, why he liked Caustic, what was the problem with his father, Octavio would tell him everything. He had no filter and the things he wouldn’t talk about were few and far between.
That is what Octavio considers to be intimate. That is what truly builds relationships. He is not interested in small talk, he wants the explanation behind Michael’s fucked eye and jewelry. Why did a bobcat have fucking jewelry?
The promise to hold his life in Caustic’s hands and the scientist to snuff it out over and over is intimacy to him. It’s fun and it’s the danger he wants. Edging ever so close to death and the release of his life from mortal chains means much more to him than any amount of kissing and hugging ever could. He lays himself bare to Caustic too, in this way. The scientist knows him inside and out, the tracing of his scars and the arrangement of his insides.
He knows, Caustic is capable of romantic love, but Octavio does not expect him to or want him to. He cannot tell Caustic that his heart flutters at the thought of him, because that is a fundamental lie. Caustic was dangerous, and Octavio was passionate about him for that.
So, it begs the question, considering Caustic’s need to be alone and the aversion the scientist had to others, how did Michael know him? a series of low chitters leave his throat as he is brought inside, and places his goggles and mask away.

Octane knows he doesn’t have any issue talking to others. He would always barge right in and make himself home in the conversations, try to carry on or add to it. He is an instigator at heart, ready to interact with others and hang out. So why didn’t they return the favor? Were they just busy with their own lives or something else?
”Mike,” The new nickname he’s given the bobcat leaves him, ”you have to tell me your secret Amigo.”

Of the two of them, it was pretty obvious that Michael was the more private male. Most of the time that was out of necessity, since if a fugitive went around babbling his entire life story to people, he'd be canned pretty damn quick. However, it was also just something that had developed as part of Michael's personality over the years, needing to keep his feelings hidden away and locked up tight. He had, however, opened up briefly with Caustic. It had mostly been because of the alcohol that they had shared, but it had also been because of the fact that he felt comfortable around Caustic. They were both by no means good people, and were both also in very complicated relationships. It had seemed like venting to each other worked great... until it hadn't, and Caustic had snapped up his drink and left. Michael hadn't thought much about that incident since it had happened, but now, with Octane in his home questioning him... he was having a vague sense of deja vu. He only hoped that this wouldn't end the same way, with Octane storming angrily out – although Octane seemed more the type to attack him, rather than storming away.

The bobcat had been sitting awkwardly as he waited for Octane to make conversation, his eyes gaining the sort of glazed over look to them that came whenever he got too much in his own head. He had been pondering all of the different subjects this could've been about, when suddenly his concentration was broken by Octane finally speaking. The cheetah's words came out in a spill, and Michael felt confusion fill him, his head tilting to one side. His gaze narrowed before he spoke, trying not to panic too much – surely the secret Octane was speaking about was innocent, "What... what secret are you talkin' about, Octane? You're gonna have to be more specific, since it's pretty damn late." He tried to play it casual, not wanting to freak out and make Octane suspicious when he didn't have to. Nobody here really knew about his past, and certainly nobody knew about the Moth thing... it was really nothing to worry about. It had to be, or Michael would need to start thinking of ways to hide a body in the Typhoon.

If Michael went into detail about his relationship, Octane would laugh. He would profess how boring that sounded, having a nice house with a loving partner, and a collection of rats to call family. And the adopted family too- but that wasn't boring. Settling down was boring to the daredevil, who planned to live fast, die fast, win fast. That was the Octane way.
He watches Michael move, letting one of his metal feet tap against the wood. It was a quick noise, insistent and manic- tap tap tap- he was getting energy out that way.

"Well like-" Oh, how should he start this? "Okay, so, I have a tendency to make other people not like me." He was amazing though! Fastest Legend in the Outlands, with tons of adoring fans crying his name!
Yet, the harsh reality was, outside of Caustic, Octane didn't have any friends. No one talked to him. "And for whatever reason, they just stop talking to me." Octane waves one of his paws as he speaks. "You look like a... I don't know, it looks like you've been through shit, Mike. Like... you got all the pretty jewelry and the injuries, but it just makes me... really confused." Okay, maybe that's why people didn't like him. Was that an insult? Were they good enough friends that Octane could be mean? Were they friends?

"How did you get in Roxie? Why does everyone seem to like you?"

The beginning of Octane's statement caused Michael to snort, his muzzle faintly twitching up into a smile for a moment before he shoved it down. It was rude to be amused by such brutal honesty, but... the thief just couldn't help it. It was probably good that Octane was able to recognized his flaws – or rather, the fallout of his flaws – but to hear it put in such a blunt way... it reminded Michael of himself when he went on some of his more self destructive rants. The bobcat found himself snorting again when Octane continued, the cheetah's thoughts coming out in a free flow that didn't even stop for a moment to think of the consequences of his words. Michael was one to be easily angered, but not usually by offhand comments by that. Especially not since... well, the other was right. Michael had been through some shit in his life, and he usually wasn't scared to admit it. He liked to think he had come out stronger because of it, but... there were still some times where he knew that wasn't true. Gritting his teeth for a moment, the fugitive hastily shook his head, as if physically trying to shoo those thoughts away. He was supposed to be helping out Octane right now – whether he wanted to or not, really – not wallowing in self pity.

Once Octane finally reached the end of his frantic rambling, Michael found himself... sort of at a loss. He honestly sort've wished he could've helped easily – both for his own sake and Octane's – but the other hadn't exactly put forth an easy question to answer. Eventually the dark furred feline just shrugged, murmuring softly as he glanced around the mostly dark house, "I don't... I don't even really know how to answer that. Truth be told, I've got no idea why people here like me so much. Especially since, in the past, I've been told to go fuck myself plenty of times for my personality in the past." He winced a bit as he remembered those incidents, primarily the one's involving the fluffy face of Amanda twisted in fury. He hastily continued, eager to move on, "But... even if I can't exactly pinpoint why they like me, I think I can kinda see why people dislike you. I mean, c'mon Octane. Not everybody is Caustic. Not everybody can put up with that bullshit you do where you needle at people just to get them to pay you some fuckin' attention. Eventually people get tired of that, and they just disengage to save themselves the trouble." Perhaps his words we're a little harsh, but he was still very much exhausted from being woken up, not to mention he had never been one to go soft on others.

OCTAVIO SILVA
High-Speed Daredevil
AFRICAN CHEETAH
TYPHOON
"Ooh, sick death, dude!"

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Acting normal. The phrasing of the other's words caused Michael's ears to pin back a little, an uneasy feeling coming over him. Did Octane not think he was capable of simply being normal? Deep down inside, Michael knew he wasn't a good man nor a normal person, but he liked covering his eyes and ears and pretending that he was, even if it was ultimately a detriment to himself. Being confronted so casually with the fact that it was all just an act... it put him on edge, and immediately made him want to usher Octane out of his home and return to bed. Despite this, he stayed rooted to the spot, knowing that freaking out would probably just seem suspicious and lead to more questioning in the future. That was the last think the fugitive wanted, especially considering how easily Octane could apparently claw beneath his protective layers. So instead he just muttered softly, faking a yawn to make it seem like he had been deep in sleepy thought, "I don't act normal. I just am normal, just like everybody else is here... I don't even think you're particularly abnormal, to be honest."

Looking to the side for a moment, Michael was honestly actually in thought this time, his mismatched blue eyes narrowing as he went over incidents in his head. When he came up with very little to implicate Octane, he simply shrugged his shoulders, sighing before he spoke, "I can't think of anything specific, to be honest. But... perhaps people just find it hard to keep up with you? I mean, look at most of the people here in the Typhoon. Look at Goldie. Most of them are too all business or caught up in their own families to try and keep up with someone like you. You're a daredevil, aren't you? I'm honestly surprised that you and Caustic get on, considering he seems more slow paced too." That was... actually an honest statement, a rare thing from Michael these days. Even after watching Octane and Caustic interact with each other, he found it difficult to grasp what they saw in each other. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, however.