Pick him up? Seriously? Well, Blaine thinks, he is awfully small. Better to just bend down once. He shifts to kneel and offer a hand but immediately the little creature is leaping into his arms trustingly expecting to be caught. Oh, croc-dog, you should not trust Blaine DeBeers. But he isn't a sadist or anything and since he got a warning he doesn't recoil or swat the animal away, his arms close around it instead and he can feel its warmth. Not so bad.

"Just don't lick me, okay? Or piss on me," he orders the little creature as he stands back up with it and heads over to the table. Once there Blaine shifts him to one arm, where he's snuggling contentedly in the crook of an elbow, and quirks an eyebrow at the offerings. Is that... milk? He reaches for it first, lifting it and giving a curious sniff that's mostly for show. Even if it's gross he wouldn't be able to taste it, but it does smell different too.

"Afternoon, stranger. No cows around these parts, hm?"