It is perhaps her total lack of fear that sees the male so easily swayed from his animalistic desire to hunt and chase, she is confident, assured, so many things a deer is not and as such he simply does not so readily pick-up upon her other half. Yet her scent remains alluring to him, in a manner he cannot entirely understand, or more so, has not yet fully discovered and indeed it is perhaps for the better that he does not. It would hardly be the first time he has turned upon a member of his own species. He had attempted to take a meat cleaver to the WereRabbit from before, sunk his teeth into Birdie's hand until the point the bones had fractured, tried to force the unfortunate Ian, a small Serval, of all things, to run for the pure delight he took within chasing down his prey. Had he been aware the woman was a deer, a favoured meal, it cannot be said so entirely how he may have reacted. As it is this knowledge still eludes him, the man understanding only that she is....appealing in some form and as such it is because of this that he allows her closer, this...Fae. It is a good name, any easy name for his mind to process and repeat, finding no agitation in its syllables.

Dark eyes flick from the pile of toppled books and items that had 'attacked him' and back towards the woman, gaze narrowed now in some wary suspicion of her actions. Knocking things over was something of a sin within the confines of his nightclub home and yet while he holds no belief this woman is above him and capable of offering any punishment he remains wary all the same, braced for some form of outrage of agitation. When it does not come he is merely left staring blankly at her, features expressionless, as if he simply cannot find the right emotion to wear and is left clinging the straws of what he does know. He allows her closeness and yet her hand reaching for his own sees a hasty withdrawal, the tall, toned young man pulling swiftly away from her worth a scowl, head shaking now as lashings of ebony hair tumble back into his dark chocolate gaze and those black ears fold backwards.

"No...touching."

While he often enjoys having his leopard fur stroked, the man has no tolerance for touch within his human form, save for by a precious and select few to whom he has permitted, to whom he trusts enough for such things and while perhaps he finds this woman intriguing he holds nowhere near enough trust to permit her to actually lay a hand upon him. He had learned so very young that not all hands are entirely kind and it is better, he thinks, to avoid being touched at all until he is sure. Long limbs move to follow the woman back towards the couch, indecision seeming to exist within his youthful façade once more before he finally moves to seat himself upon it. Fae had given permission after all and indeed he finds this new couch rather satisfying, tail flicking in appreciation as a heady purr rumbles within his throat at the mere pleasure taken from being permitted upon such a piece of furniture.

"I will not...even scratch it."

It is...an unusual promise and yet given the size of his claws perhaps not an entirely unappreciated one, this obscure gesture holding perhaps some hint of appreciation for the woman though his desire not to ruin her possessions. Ears prick readily forward once more at the sight of the food she brings within his bowl, tongue brushing across his lips in anticipation. He prefers raw food, cooked meat a rare treat and yet never before has anyone gone to such lengths with a meal for him, save for perhaps Birdie within her kitchen upon the West side- his own personal territory. The meal placed before him is hurriedly snatched up and into his arms, the man shifting upon the couch ever so slightly to turn his form away from the woman seated upon the floor- as if he holds some belief she may try to take the food back off of him, a cruel trick and one he has suffered to many times before. The chicken is consumed with such haste that it is a marvel the man does not choke, bone and sinew snapping beneath his jaws and one thigh after the other is hurriedly swallowed. The taste is beyond delightful, the boy content to purr throughout this hurried meal, pausing only to stare towards the slender woman as she speaks, as if trained to offer his attention in this manner though indeed it seems he hardly understands what she says- before returning to his meal, the last thigh plucked with greasy fingers from his bowl.

"Where is...Fae's...pack?"

All Were's have a pack he is sure, even within his own fractured world the bonds of pack still exist, perhaps the only reason entirely the young man has not succumbed to the darkness of his own mind. He is there Second, there protector against the world, it is his purpose, his meaning and as such he exists for it. Pack is family- his own packmates by far his favoured people within this life even if he does not always understand them, nor the emotions of their world, his own so very black and white. He does not understand Tetradore's fears, he cannot fathom so entirely why Nadya seeks to draw him ever closer, only to push him away, nor why Birdie blushes so suddenly each time he is near. Women, after all, are a difficult thing to understand. The last piece of chicken is finally swallowed, his hunger sated at last as that ever curious mind returns to Fae once more, dark eyes resting against her own with a startling intensity, watching her beneath that tousled black hair that is near untameable as he is himself before he suddenly and abruptly stands once more, closing the small distance between himself and the woman, limbs folding until he kneels before her seated form in some effort to meet her gaze more fully- entirely unaware of why it may not be appropriate for the girl to have a boy she barely knows at such proximity as his head tilts slightly, mind seemingly upon the edge of some other discovery. It is her scent that teases at him still, his mind more focused perhaps, now that he is no longer hungry, those fathomless dark eyes tracing the length of her form as he lingers as ever just out of reach. Black ears remain pricked forward, arms and clawed hands folded across his chest as that long, gold and black tail moves to suddenly flick towards her, flicking abruptly up to brush across her face, to remove a loose strand of her own hair from her eyes, offering her the barest touch of that luxuriant fur across her face, the boy so unaware of boundaries, it would seem, oblivious in any regard to the nature of this exchange before his tail flicks back to rest against the floor between them. If he does not like to be touched, he only assumes that perhaps she does not other, thus keeping his hands, at least, to himself.

"What...are....you? What......animal?"

He really wants to know.

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