He is pleased with the manner in which she becomes still beneath him in those few moments in which he rests above her, this reaction seeming to appease him on some level more...instinctual, some part of him seeming to register this acceptance within her, dark eyes meeting her own momentarily before it seems his desires shift entirely, mind so easily and readily distracted as her lips graze his cheek and he settles before her, determined now to turn his attention to the 'slapping game' he seems utterly determined to have them play, so unaware of the difficult array of emotions that tangle within the poor girl in regards to himself and the pack he belongs too. He is perhaps innocent in this regard, mind holding a childish understanding of the world, a view so very simplistic it is often overlooked entirely in the minds of adults. For now however, his attention rests upon her hands as his own flip to come down upon them, the sudden gasp the woman gives seeing his own features alight once more as he catches her a second time, the red marks left against her flesh seemingly of little concern, his delight in winning evidently clear as those dark chocolate eyes gleam readily. He desires to win in all that he does, the boy a naturally competitive creature, his dominant nature curved perhaps willingly by Tetradore and yet in all other instances he seeks to control and command. His own blood is perhaps unknown, his lines not so pure and Naddy and Tetra and yet his demeanour perhaps speaks of dominant blood somewhere within him, a desire to hold himself above those around him, even those whom he holds some manner of....care for. This game they play simply an extension of such.

His hands move to rest atop her own, the warm softness of her skin a surprising feeling against the rough, calloused skin of his own, reminiscent of a life hard lived. The manner in which her fingers tease at his palms sees the boy frown ever so slightly, a look of confusion lacing his features, unfamiliar with this tickling sensation as her fingers stroke at his skin, his look of confused irritation rapidly beginning to dissolve as a purr rises within his throat, fingers stretching and retracting in evident pleasure before a sudden hissing sound sees his fingernails replaced with those wicked black claws, fully extended as her fingers trace his own- the boy seeming to have forgotten entirely that they are engaged in any sort of game as his eyes flicker closed for barely a moment in utter satisfaction, very near melting beneath her hands as each muscle releases and relaxes. It is only when her hands cease there caressing and tickling of his sensitive palms that one eye flickers back open, eyeing the girl with ready disdain, a snort of irritation released in annoyance and impatience at her having ceased to continue to please him in this regard, lips parting to demand she continue when her hands suddenly slapped against his own- the boy hurriedly ripping them back from her reach, claws retracted within the same moment to prevent himself slashing her.

"Birdie!"

The grin she wears is mirrored with his own look of annoyance at having been outsmarted in this regard, the man a decidedly poor loser and yet perhaps this is Tetradore influence, neither man accepting of second place particularly well and yet he is perhaps...impressed to some extent at her ability to outdo him in this, one hand reaching suddenly forward to...pat at her head.

"Yes...Birdie did...good."

That this is a slightly patronising gesture has been entirely lost upon him, the ma simply repeating the manner in which Risqué and her employees had so often spoken to him, patting him on the head with the offering of some sarcastic phrase or another, the sarcasm lost on him entirely. Her fingers running along the scars of her wrists sees those dark eyes flicker briefly towards her, following the lines of her wounds, his love of lines and patterns readily engaged now as fingers reach automatically to seize her wrist, pulling her arms closer, muttering to himself in a moment of evident...insanity as he begins to trace the patterns with his fingertips, oblivious to any discomfort she may feel in such closeness, pausing only as she speaks though he does not look up from his obsessive desire to trace her scars in this moment.

"Sometimes...maybe when...we...play-fight."

That this is perhaps not entirely what she had meant remains to be seen, the boy admitting simply that in there fun, on occasion, someone is given to get bitten or scraped as is sure to happen in any pack game or play. His head tilts slightly once more, evident thought seeming to tangle within his mind once more.

"Sometimes when...we...play the...sex-game...but that is not...bad...I...like that."

That this is definitely not the information she had been asking for remains to be seen, the poor woman perhaps given to believe she is about to join some form of...free-loving pack, Tobias oblivious to what he says in these moments, holding no shame or lie to his words- honest as always. His hands release her own then, the boy suddenly and abruptly rolling over and onto his back.

"Pack is...family. Always protect...family. Always."

He grins slightly, white teeth flashed towards her, head rolling back to meet her gaze from his own upside-down position, arms and hands suddenly extended back towards her to rest abruptly in her lap.

"I want you to....touch my hands...again. I....like that...very much and...pat my...hair....my hair likes it too."

It is not really a question, dark eyes meeting her own once more, a boyish grin of sorts tracing his features in an attempt to look...approachable and further seeking to encourage her to do as he desires and tickle his hands once more, or perhaps stroke his hair. After all, his hair does like it.

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