He waits almost patiently for the woman's attention, seated dog-like before his steel food dish, clearly expectant that this need will be met. Perhaps she believes him a true leopard- if not a trained one and yet as to whom or what would keep a leopard for a pet is perhaps an entirely different question, much less how it has been trained to tap suggestively at its food dish in clear indication of what he expects. The house smells...stale, old and as such it is terribly easy for the young man to pick apart her own scent from the air, the distinctly feminine scent that remains marked with...something else, an entirely different desire for food seeming to stir weakly within him, animal instinct responding entirely to the scent of prey though he is yet to fully make this assumption- far more distracted by her sudden approach. She is careful, nervous perhaps, these emotions within herself readily bleeding into the air, so tangible, so...easily tasted by the predator whom willingly feeds upon even the barest shred of fear within those around him. He is childish perhaps, so often playful- if not very near friendly when he chooses to be and yet there is a darker side, the creature dangerously volatile, his vast array of powers assuring there are few whom may quell his tantrums. Perhaps this is the reason Risqué keeps him, commands him...forces him. Yet for how long her hold will last cannot be said, his sheer will power beginning to tease at the threads of her own. His tongue moves to swipe along his lips in anticipation, curiosity overtaking his feline features in this moment as the woman moves to open the fridge, the scent of raw chicken seeming to delight the creature as his purring reaches an entirely new level.

Her tone was calm...shaky perhaps, an attempt at confidence, one the untamed man is willing to accept for now as she deposits a single chicken thigh within his dish. He waits only long enough for her to walk away, having learned the hard way that rushing his food was only going to result in a kick or some other form of punishment, before falling hungrily upon it. The thigh gives way near instantly beneath powerful jaws, that succulent raw flesh his favoured of meals as the cracking and snapping of bone and sinew echoes briefly within the newly furnished apartment and the thigh is swallowed near whole. He likes this food, likes this taste, her offering of a single piece a clearly unacceptable thing as those golden eyes lift once more, the boy reaching to snatch up his bowl and trail after her again, muscle rippling beneath that luxuriant fur as he does. The bowl is dumped once more at her feet as she rests upon the lounge, the leopard head tilting curiously to one side, her...posture...the manner in which she holds the food above him seeming to indicate that she...expects something of him. A grunt of chagrin is forced from of his lips in these moments, the boy evidently trained to some extent to respond to food being held above him as he move to suddenly and abruptly collapse onto one side, rolling now entirely over onto his back, legs splayed in all directions, tongue rolling out of his lips as he simply.....lies there. That the woman may not understand such a thing has clearly not occurred to him, the boy assured that 'playing dead' is by far one of his better tricks and yet she fails utterly to respond in a manner he deems timely- one eye rolling upon, looking towards her, expectant of his reward.

When the woman fails once more to add further chicken to his bowl- the girl no doubt confused by this ridiculous ordeal, the man releases a growl of irritation, the deep, rumbling sound echoing with violent intent about the home before there is a sudden snap and crack of bone once more. Gold and black fur suddenly recedes to reveal that naturally tanned skin of his Spanish heritage, golden eyes returned to the wild deep, dark chocolate hues of his human form as locks of equally untamed ebony hair tumble in his gaze and tangle with his lengthy eyelashes. He is young, younger then herself by a year at least, lips pulling back into a stunning white, toothy grin as he regards her now. It is fortunate perhaps, that he has managed to shift his pants at least into place this time, his favoured stormy grey jeans firmly in place, though his chest remains bare, his collar still nestled about his neck as his head tilts once more.

"I did....a trick you have to....give me my treat now."

He points to the bowl again, fathomless dark pools held against her own as he sits cross-legged upon the floor before her, his words fractured and broken, each syllable a struggle as he manages to force it free. Yet she is still too slow, a scowl over-taking his features now, his demeanour seeming to have shifted once more- and dangerously so, the young man suddenly standing. At over six foot his height is rather immense, that slender, lithe, toned frame towering above her now as he points a final time at his bowl.

"Now."

It is not a question. The young man clearly becoming irate as he watches her beneath lashings of tousled ebony hair, the girl sure to do as he has commanded- if only to quell the building tantrum. He has done his trick, he demands his reward. It is simply the way of things, the creature sure to become far more amenable once he is satisfied.

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