Politely refuse. You need to cook.

You try to push him away without knocking him over: he clings to you a moment, but you manage to create a space between you and the gay ginger catboy without hurting him. "-come on, man. We just met and I've got fish to cook!" You rebuke, but he only perks-up with his orange cat ears raised.

His fingers undulate greedily... "You have fish! Oh, joy!" He cries-out happily while following you to your camp. You've got a couple of large mud-fish laid out on a worn-out sheet of burlap; you weren't sure about eating something you caught in the Cessponds, but you the alternative is starving.

You clean the fish with a knife while Phillip watches over your shoulder. "I didn't say I was going to feed you, you know." You grumble with a glance over your shoulder, while you lay out the clean beige-and-pink slabs of fresh raw fish out on your cloth.

Phillip's grin only widens, his eyes almost closed on you in a squint of mischief. "I love fish!" He cheers... pointlessly, while you nervously skewer the fish on some broken wheel-spokes you found on the way; you're actually a pretty resourceful guy- it's your saving grace.

You plant the skewers around your campfire, slow-roasting four fat fillets of mystery fish at the edges of the flame. Phillip sits- ... right at the edge of your stool, pressing his tender body into your side. He's definitely fawning over you.

-did you really charm him this much just by manhandling him?- "Phillip, I don't think I'm gay. I want your skills- but I'm not trying to sodomize you." You finally declare, unable to ignore his constant flirts.

He flashes you an understanding but much too enthusiastic grin. "That's okay! You don't have to be gay, I'm very pretty." He answers as if to trump your argument utterly. You just blankly stare at him: you have a feeling you'll be putting up with his antics for a while...

Even so, you don't want him to starve. You pluck a well-done fish skewer and pass it to him while scooting halfway off the stool so he can have room too. "Here, eat this. I hope you're actually able to pick locks..." You surrender with some exasperation; when you decided to wait for a companion to come along, Phillip is about the last person you would've imagined coming your way.

He snatches up the skewer and starts beaming- "Master!!" He cheers, but starts stuffing his face before he can say more: you note some of his teeth are prominently fanged... they rip and shred the cooked fish with ease.

You get started on your dinner too, eating much slower than your companion. You're both damn hungry though: you two busily eat and relax, enjoying the contentment of a warm meal. Fortunately- it seems your fish was safe to eat.