The change within her posture in these moments is readily absorbed, the woman seeming to become almost....defiant against his order as those dark eyes narrow slightly in discontent. It is simply the law of the Were race, dominance rules above all, the most dominant holding Alpha position over those less so and indeed- Tobias is a dangerously dominant creature, the Beta of his pack, accepting commands from only one so willingly if Risque and her talent for feline manipulation is ignored. The slender, dark-haired girl before him however- is not any form of Leader he recognises, her commanding form and tone grating against him though he chooses not to act upon it, not to put her in the place she belongs...at least- not yet. He is volatile by nature, moods seeming to shift and change as sharply as the wind itself and yet for now he remains seemingly mildly complacent. After all, she is in possession of the food he desires, the chicken thigh a tasty treat he is rarely afforded by his own mistress and as such the woman holds some sort of value, the boy willing to entertain her some moments longer though those darker thoughts continue to twist within the confines of his mind. His ability to understand the spoken word is....limited, so much of his understanding gleamed from posture and tone alone, her agitation clear in these moments as she speaks, evidently unconcerned by his towering height above her. Her forward step is a decidedly bold move, a dominant one and yet one he I turn refuses to acknowledge, holding his own ground, features oddly expressionless in this moment as his arms fold stubbornly across his chest and fortunately little more. The man apparently content to act like a petulant child. At least for now.

He does not entirely understand what she has said to him, she speaks to quickly, his animalistic mind sluggish in it's attempts to perceive her words, desperately attempting to catch upon even a single phrase though he becomes readily frustrated, more so at himself and his own inability to understand her, teeth grating against each other in some mild effort to display thought, as if he legitimately chews over her words. Stayed a cat? This he understands, head tilted once more in a further attempt to grasp this phrase and what it is she seems to be asking of him- before evidently settling upon a compromise. It is a truly rare ability among the Were, a secret guarded by those whom have learned to perfect it and yet an ability he displays now, his form shifting once more, yet only partially so, the man shifting merely his spotted tail, claws and blackened ears into place atop the ebony tangle that is his head. Seemingly having decided to rest somewhere between cat and man as he offers the woman a lop-sided grin of sorts, one almost decidedly mischievous in its origin.

"Better, yes?"

He seemingly seeks some form of praise for this effort, chocolate hued dark eyes flicking to the chicken in her hand once more, as if seeking to ascertain whether this performance is deserving of a reward. She moves to flick her thick, dark hair, this sudden movement seeing his eyes rapidly fixate upon it, pupils dilating slightly though he restrains himself and his desire to bat at it as she speaks once more, gesturing towards her couch- a look of...confusion seeming to touch his features now.

"I am not....allowed on....the...furniture."

More so, he is only allowed on specific furniture, the foot of his mistress's bed whenever she is within it, the plush velvet lounge within the bar that she takes great desire in forcing himself and Tetra to sit for hours on end. He is never allowed on chairs or tables or bars or couches to which he has not been permitted. That such a thing is a ridiculous thing to say has clearly not occurred to him, the young man continuing to stare at her as she seems to await further words, though what she desires he cannot say. She wanted a name? He understands 'name' and yet the method as to which she has asked for his clearly does not compute- the man continuing to stare blankly for several moments before offering the only name he knows. It is fortunate perhaps, that it happens to be his own.

"Tobi."

He waits only long enough to assure himself he has offered the right answer before proceeding to sit once more- upon the floor, long legs folding beneath the bare chested young man, toned, lithe form seemingly content enough with his place. At least....until she turns away to beginning cooking the chicken. His nose wrinkles slightly, assured the woman is ruining the chicken with her actions, the handsome young man vastly preferring it raw as he fiddles with the tip of his spotted tail in a decidedly child-like fashion. His attention span however, is decidedly.....lacking. He holds no interest in the cooking process and is assured he has connected all the dots of his tail before- thus he takes it upon himself to explore, dark eyes sliding sideways, assuring himself the woman is busy, her back turned, before he proceeds to move once more, bare feet silent as only a cat can truly be. Long fingers brush over the objects within her lounge room, tracing boxes and knickknacks with a clear curiosity. It has been years since he has been inside a real home, so much has changed, so much is fascinating to him. He pauses before the television, pressing experimentally at a number of buttons before moving towards the bookcase, fingers grazing along the books she has so carefully positioned. He cannot read, not even a single word and yet he seems to find then fascinating regardless- at least, until a moth precedes to flutter free of the shelving, pupils dilated instantly at this fluttering delight, spotted tail flickering wildly in anticipation as he clearly readies himself to pounce. He lunges suddenly towards the fluttering creature, clearly delighted in this game- at least, until half the shelf is given to collapse beneath his 'playing' books and baubles tumbling with a resounding â€"crash- to the floor, half her mornings work undone within the space of mere seconds as he hurriedly withdraws, glancing sneakily sideways in the hopes she has not noticed the rather alarming bang.

"It...attacked me."

She'll buy that for sure.

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