It is perhaps that she does not full understand his desire to protect in these moments, though whether it is himself he aims to preserve, or the curly-haired woman cannot be said, his form rapidly becoming defensive in the moments that follow. His previously calm attitude was quick to fall apart, the volatility of his nature so entirely displayed in these moments. Her demand that he does not lift his shirt in public is met with little more then a shrug, the boy entirely used to wearing nothing at all in front of anyone unfortunate enough to cross his path, so many o the outfits Risqué seems content to force him into also lacking even the most basic dignity. That someone might see his chest is clearly of no relevance to the boy. Her mention of his collar however, is perhaps the first true indication that he is...displeased about it, agitation lining his youthful frame as his words snap slightly towards her, displaying his discord of the garment he so detests, repeating the words he has offered many times before.

"I am not....a pet."

He simply refuses to accept it, refuses to understand though perhaps when his mood is less prone to violence he may be more willing to accept her offer of help in regards to his irritated skin, fingers forever scratching at the place the leather item so often sits before he is thankfully distracted by the arrival of food. It is merely unfortunate perhaps, that he has come to perceive value within the curly-haired woman, some part of him having come to enjoy her presence in the lack of Nadya's own and as such he is...unwilling to have what he believes to be his possession harmed, dark eyes sliding readily towards the approaching steak-knives with ready discord, form tensing at the threat he sees before him. He does not understand what the woman wants, her agitation with his unruly behaviour perhaps confusing his animalistic instincts, rapidly perceiving her approach as...less than pleasant. His own retaliation is...mild perhaps, a fortunate thing given his capacity for violence, unable to stop himself despite Birdie's attempts at interference, the wolf throwing herself before the flying water, taking the brunt of his assault upon herself as he simply stares in confusion, unable to understand why the girl had done such a thing. The look upon the woman's features earns her little more than a scowl in return, his arms folding across his chest with a huff of sorts.

He is entirely aware that his behaviour is perhaps not totally appropriate, some part of himself understanding what is expected to a certain extent and yet he chooses to ignore it, dark eyes sliding back towards his companion as she apologises for him, the faintest hint of a simper tracing his lips behind her back, the unfortunate waitress looking towards him now as Birdie attempts to explain, the boy entirely content to take the opportunity to stick his tongue out and towards the waitress, the shock upon her features seeing a snicker hiss from behind his lips, features returned to there normal blank state the moment Birdie moves to turn back around, the boy staring determinedly at his onion rings- as if he has done nothing. It is debatable, truly, just how much of his personality is affected by his condition and how much he simply pretends to allow it to do so, the boy far, far more cunning then any truly believe.

Her hand suddenly reaching for his own sees his eyes narrow slightly at this touch against himself though he allows his hand to remain there, momentarily calmed perhaps by the touch she applies so gently, focused entirely upon her fingers now as she speaks once more. Eyes narrow yet again in disbelief at her words before she seems to suggest he apologise, a smile of sorts tracing his features as he turns to the waitress once more.

"I am not sorry. Not even...a little...bit."

One eye lifts once more, turning to Birdie now with a clear look of....cheek, the boy seemingly content to test her now, to see just how far he might be able to push her, well and truly aware he is not behaving in any sense of the word, seeming determined now to be disruptive though why cannot said. So many hours spent within Syn with little release seeming to have resulted in this outburst of sorts though her final words seem to settle him slightly as the waitress hurries away, dark eyes turned back to her own as he returns his hand to himself, seeming to debate the words he has been offered, the whispered words beginning to settle now.

"When do we get to...eat the sides?"

It is not a yes...exactly, yet it would seem he is willing to calm down, if only slightly, content now to demand more food.

madness, as you know, is like gravity: all it takes is a little push