The young woman's assurance that his secret would surely be kept between them seems to satisfy the deviant entirely, head nodded moments later in some effort to show his understanding for this new, unspoken deal before those fathomless dark eyes rest upon her features once more, ever watchful of each and every movement and flicker within her features- so much of his understanding drawn from that which is unspoken. For the moment, at least, her demeanour remained calm- the Leopard content to offer her this same pleasantness in return, his behaviour significantly more...behaved then it was often given to be in this given moment as his attention became fixated upon the vampire male. It is only after his own 'fangs' have shifted into place that the boy seems content to flash Damon a lop-sided grin of sorts, evidently pleased with his efforts at mimicking his current company. After all, mimicry is by far one of his more potent talents, that fractured, broken mind forever seeming so determined to attempt to....belong with those around him, even despite some part of the deviant surely assured he did not. The use of the name 'Captain' however, suddenly sees those dark eyes cut rapidly sideways in a manner far more animalistic then man, then line between beast and boy a perilously thin string within Tobias, the creature given to react upon instinct before thought, his response decidedly swift as he scowls readily at the woman now.

"Not Captain- Damon."

That he is willing to argue you about it is surely made clear in this precarious moment, agitation seeming to simmer just beneath the surface of the Werecreature as he continues to regard the woman, gaze held firmly upon her own. He dislikes the use of nicknames unless he has invented them himself, his mind rebelling against the use of more than one name for more than one person- the boy perhaps incapable of making this distinction and as such finds himself readily agitated by his own short comings. An anger pushed, unfairly, onto those around him and yet there are precious few ever willing to argue with him. His power well known, at least amongst his own kind. He waits only a few moments longer to assure the woman has understood this matter of naming before one hand lifts to point first at Damon and then himself.

"Damon. Tobi"

As if the girl is utterly confused and requires a slow and deliberate lesson from a man whom refuses to wear shoes for fear they will consume his feet. This mattered seemingly satisfied the boy is content to return to his own devices, leaving Damon and the girl to talk for a few moments, his own attention fixated upon the wooden table before, one finger moving to trace the lines within the polished wood. He adores lines, patterns, anything that repeats and repeats, mind readily finding fascination in the table top as he merely takes it upon himself to begin to mutter. His words hold no true sound or meaning, a seemingly useless jumble of sounds as those long fingers dance across the wood, oblivious entirely to the fact that it is behaviours like this, perhaps, that may lend to his less then sane reputation. The sudden appearance of a plate of seafood before him however ends any and all such moments of insanity, dark eyes widening in delight at the feast before him as tousles of dark hair fall again into his eyes. The appearance of cutlery beside his meal however seems to be yet another source of his dissatisfaction.

"I...am not allowed to...have those...because- I stab people...and cannot...control myself."

Long fingers merely move to slide the knife and fork away and towards the vampire woman instead, entirely unconcerned by his own explanation, the boy honest, shockingly so, offering his companions nothing but the truth as to why he had been banned from touching cutlery, merely allowing his fingernails to be replaced with large, sharpened feline claws- quite content to eat with his hands. The food is very near inhaled, as if he fears someone may be inclined to take it from him should he not consume it fast enough. That fish is surely better deboned and lobster surely required to be removed from its shell has clearly never occurred to him, powerful jaws crunching through scale, skin, shell and bone as if it is nothing. It is the oysters alone that seem to halt him, this 'rock' plucked from his plate with curiosity before he precedes to slam it against the table top, features contorted into a scowl before slamming it again.

"It...is a....rock?"

Eyes flicker from one vampire to the other in search of an answer to this problem, Damon's assurance that he was welcome, provided he wore clothes, met with a nod of understanding and little else before those dark eyes fall upon the pie placed before the vampire woman, a grin of sorts making its way onto his features. A grin far too pleasant for the devious young man- the oyster suddenly held out and towards the woman.

"Do you...want to trade? This is...the best of all the....rocks."

Why wouldn't she want to trade?

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