On his way towards the inn he currently stays in, he hears a faint meow and he turned his head towards the direction of the sound, seeing a small, black kitten approaching him. He raised a brow at the small creature and he hums, observing its wounded body with bleeding lacerations against its belly.

Granger wondered how the kitten got its wounds, perhaps it escaped from the small village and ran into the wounds, since black cats are perceived to bring down one's luck. He is not surprised if people wanted to kill the kitten because of their so-called superstitions.

The gunslinger crouched down and gently caressed the top of the black kitten's head, causing it to meow some more and nuzzle against his palm. Granger tilted his head in an innocent manner, and he grinned lopsidedly at the small act. "It is not your fault that you have black fur." He mumbled against his collar that stood up till his nose, and he remembers bringing with him a small snack, which he feeds at the kitten.

The kitten happily accepted the offer and started eating the food that was supposed to be for himself, but it's not like he wanted to eat it anyway. He then stood up as the kitten is busy eating its food, and when he turned his back at it, he heard a loud meow that made him look back. The kitten is approaching him once more and he sighs out.

"Go on, you should run. I can't bring you back to the village. It's dangerous." Knowing the cat wouldn't understand him but silently hoping would take a hint, the kitten ended up nuzzling his ankle, rubbing itself around his shoe.

In this world, there are two types of approaches when it comes to being alone. One is where you'll find a place, or a person to be your solace, and the second, is where you'll become self-reliant and live isolated from other people. For Granger, he had enjoyed his own company that he does not welcome anyone else. To remove pain from existing in his realm, he chose to live with himself, and it had been working for years eversince his stay at the orphanage, and now with slaying blood demons, there were no hindrances to serve his purpose. Nothing but a demon-killer machine.

Ignoring the poor kitten's mewls that is starting to make him infuriated, he walked away, only for the said feline to follow after him. It didn't take too long for Granger to adjust, and all the mewls got him annoyed, yet he couldn't help but gather the kitten in his arm, while holding his violin case on the other.

It doesn't seem like the kitten would be leaving him anytime soon, and so, upon arriving the village, he cradled it onto his chest to keep it safe. The gunslinger ended up bringing the feline into his room, placing it down the wooden floor as it mewled.

"Wait, let me change my clothes." He speaks in response towards the kitty's meows, with it wandering around the room that surely smelled a lot like him, and the kitten might've registered the scent into its instincts. He swiftly unzips his high-collared coat until his chest, and he shrugs it off of his shoulders, before hanging it behind his door. He is left in his bandaged body, trying to hide the scars he had gotten from battle, and his rugged black pants.

He crouches down to unlatch the holsters around his legs, and he placed them down, before plopping onto the bed. The kitten made its way up the mattress, nuzzling Granger's cheek with its wet snout.

"Because of you, I need to find someone to take care of you now." He mumbled, closing his eyes, with just the mere thought of socializing already tiring him out.