The warlocks words have fallen, seemingly, on deaf ears, the creature merely content in the knowledge that the other man would provide a solution to the debacle that is facial hair, seemingly having no interest in the how or why of such a thing, let alone any such mention of testosterone as he returns to his leopard form in pursuit of the promised prey that continues its attempts to allude him. Despite his evident animalism however, such words continue to turn readily within that cunning mind, fractured thought attempting to piece together what exactly the warlock had been attempting to say. It is rare, truly, for the young man to consider phrases for so very long and yet, upon occasion, he expresses some ability to learn beyond the basal mimicry that has so far afforded him that mere scrap of humanity he is capable of portraying. He likes Davante and as such is willing to put forth some effort in an attempt to understand him, words continuing to turn about his mind as he moves to glide up the street. The warlocks protest in regards to his slower movement however, earn him little more then the lashing of a spotted tail that readily displays the domineering creatures displeasure in his perceived underling.

It is only when they are upon Davante's street that the Leopard is given to change, interest in the meat seeming to lessen as that spotted muzzle lifts to the air, tasting the breeze as only an animal can truly be given to do. Davante's scent is stronger here, the younger man well aware of this shift within territory and yet, Warlocks, it would seem, do not mark nearly as effectively as Were's, the mingling of scents hazy and unclear until the spotted cat allows himself to be led within the mans apartment where his unique musk seems to prevail entirely. Yet- it is not merely the scent of Davante that seems to capture the creatures attention, the sudden hiss and spit from the black ball of fur that leaps from the refrigerator readily seeing Tobias' own fur puff upward in clear offense, thickened, plume of a tail waving as he moves to spit right back. This is claimed territory, the scent markings of the black house cat entirely clear, even to the Were. Perhaps he is part human, his animal form little more then a guise and yet some instincts are inborn, understood and assured within the animalistic part of himself that so alerts him to this claim of ownership. Davante's words see little more then the flick of a black rimmed ear, the boys attention now entirely upon the male cat as he moves to stalk forward, back arched in a clear posturing of dominance towards the other feline. He is male, of that Tobias is entirely sure and yet his scent is....off, incorrect, lacking a potency of sorts that sees that head tilt and turn as he moves to...sniff at this blackened toy.

He does not understand the manner in which Church has been...tampered with, perceiving only that the male is somehow....wrong. Another hiss spits free of his own lips, more warning then threat before the black male proceeds to lunge towards him, sending the leopard launching backward in retreat as Church proceeds to give chase as any male does when another is given to enter it's territory- both cats given to tear from the room in a frenzy of hissing spits that seems to disappear into Davante's bedroom- several decorative artefacts surely at risk within this moment. A rapid launch sees the young leopard land atop the previously well-made bed, pivoting in place to bare fangs at his assailant, unwilling, it would seem, to give further ground to a creature...not entirely male, his curiosity in this clear as a heavy paw swipes towards it, both cats seemingly content to yowl towards one another before.....a sudden amicability is achieved. The shift and crack of bone readily sees the leopard replaced with the boy once more, hands reaching eagerly now for the black tom, pulling it readily into his lap with a satisfied purr on both creatures parts. It is perhaps, in this manner, that Davante will be given to find them, the black cat held lovingly in the arms of the now human Leopard, long fingers stroking through that glossy fur over and over again, dark eyes lifting upward momentarily.

"Kitchen and......chair and.....carpet and....boxes are all his......rest is mine...we share you."

That this is evidently the unspoken agreement to which the felines have reached is surely clear. The black cats scent strongest upon the items the boy is content to list, Tobias seemingly having claimed the rest of the apartment by way of his significantly more powerful and more masculine form with Davante himself- something to be shared. The little black cat lifted upward suddenly as the boy proceeds to tilt his head in a clear moment of discovery, features contorted into a frown of sorts.

"He is...missing bits. Not a....real man."

Dark chocolate eyes lift questioningly to Davante once more, the deviant content to sit cross-legged upon the bed, evidently having made himself at home upon the luxuriant quilt, fingers moving to glide across the cover, clenching and unclenching in the same manner any cat kneads it's paws atop a desirable fabric, Church released now from his grip to do as he sees fit, momentary hostility seeming to have ended- at least for now. It has been a long time, truly, since he has been within a proper house, the smallest of seemingly mundane objects rapidly seeming to hold his attention, Davante's bedroom a veritable playground as those dark eyes rove with clear curiosity over each and every object. The tall, lanky boy proceeds to stand once more, lifting easily from the bed now to wander towards the nearby dresser, bare-feet silent atop the flooring as he does, fingers moving to brush over a number of small items the man clearly keeps. His fascination with such things is surely clear, lips parting to mutter to himself as he does, one hand reaching up to brush again at the hair upon his face that continues to annoy him even now before he very suddenly decides to speak once more, clearly having finally found an answer to Davante's earlier question- gaze still upon the variety of objects before him- a watch seeming to hold his fascination now, tongue running the length of it- merely to assess its taste.

"I know...what....test-os-ter-one....is. It is....when girls.....smell good....and you can-"

For a moment he almost seems to consider his choice of words, fingers continuing to toy with the watch, eyes firmly upon it, back towards Davante now.

"...fuck them."

Tetradore, it would seem, has managed to teach him that one and single word, head turning now to peer over his shoulder, assessing the other man's reaction to his deadpan comment, as if seeking to assure himself he has used the word correctly, truly unable to understand at all the implications of such a thing, also evidently having confused Testosterone with Pheromone and yet- he learns only from what he knows, understands only what Nadya has taught him, how can he be expected to know anything else?

"You have to...get it...right or...girls just...slap you."

Well. Apparently The Wild teaches you some things after all, dark eyes resting expectantly upon the other man.

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