Davante's question in regards to just how a territory, person or object is claimed resulted in little more than a tilted head and something akin to a scowl, the dishevelled creature unable to understand the other man's own lack of understanding regarding such a thing, dark eyes regarding his newest companion as if such a question is entirely foolish before abruptly proceeding to shake his head.

"Sometimes....yes but....just....rub on...it so it...smells like...me. All my things...smell like me then...all others know. Sometimes....I bite...my things."

He nods his head now as if to assure himself of the clear and certain correctness of such actions, unable to perceive the other man's almost intense curiosity in regards to the animal world and the delicate nature of human/animal exchange that so often occurred within the Were-world. His final sentence however, earns the warlock a ready grin, white teeth flashed easily towards him as if to further solidify the meaning behind this biting practice before his own fingers reach up to brush at the skin of his own neck, head turned slightly to display the discoloured skin at his own neck, a permanent scar that existed outside even the healing capabilities of the Were race, offering the other man a view of this now before those dark eyes return to him.

"I....belong to.....Tetra- Alpha."

It is nothing short of a surely bizarre attempt to educate his companion on the various methods of claiming and yet the boys own inability to perceive that which occurs around him has surely limited his ability to explain it. Words are a struggle, each syllable forced, a clearly frustration for the creature in his attempts to explain with a vocabulary so very limited and halting. It is merely fortunate perhaps, that the manner of spiky appendages is given to distract the creature from any further explanation attempts, the resulting petulance of both parties ended only by Tobias desire to possess Davante's sandwich, snatching it readily from unsuspecting hands before returning to the comfortable bed- entirely content to ignore Davante's words of protest as the bread is deposited unceremoniously to the floor, leaving only the meat the leopard seems to desires as he bites hungrily into it. That ever present feline curiosity however, sees those chocolate hued eyes returned to the man with expectation, having evidently come to understand that Davante, like Tetradore, possessed a knowledge of sorts that Tobias himself was given to lack- an ability to understand what he could not. It is rare indeed for the dark-haired deviant to seek any form of...help, the boy often unwilling to admit his own lack of understanding, oblivious to how very obvious such a thing may be, the boy evidently in possession of some form of pride- misguided as it may be. Yet it would seem, in this regard, he has deemed Davante at least- an acceptable form of information, the boy far more willing to accept the words of other men over the women within his life, his disdain for feminine creatures, save for perhaps Birdie and Nadya, having resulted in an unwillingness to learn from them- assured, to some extent, his own intelligence is significantly greater.

Davantes answer is met with little more than a stare, mind readily attempting to perceive this information, such thoughts stored somewhere within that fractured understanding, perhaps to be thought on later as he merely offers a nod of sorts. He does not understand 'relationship' â€" not truly, the word far too complex for a man given far more to animalism then the complexity of human understanding, the boy merely nodding regardless, having come to understand that this is a readily accepted gesture when h is given to be told something. It is the warlocks mention of cake however, that sees the boys eyes narrow in decided agitation, the last of the sandwich hurriedly swallowed.

"Women...have cake?"

His inability to perceive both sarcasm and symbolism in this regard have resulted in nothing short of an understanding that women are in possession of actual cake, a sugary treat the young man has grown highly accustomed to and one of the few foods he is willing to accept aside from meat in any form. That Birdie and Nadya have been concealing this cake from him sees a look of clear disdain touch his youthful features.

"I knew....they lied."

That broken, difficult mind moves to twist and turn about this new thought, lips parting to mutter to himself, words holding no real sound before the thought of food seems to, thankfully, steer his mind away from whatever darker thoughts seem to have taken hold within it. He is a volatile creature, his almost childish, playful nature merely one facet of the true depth of his being, the young man entirely capable of a shocking cruel savagery when it is he is given to lose control of what tiny threads of calm he clings too- food, it would seem, a suitable distraction. A significantly less hostile mood seems to overtake the boy once more, Davante's challenge to 'find the kitchen' one readily accepted as the young man near launches from the bed, tearing out of the room on bare feet, into the lounge room and into the nearby kitchen.

"I found it!"

Arms fold readily across his chest, the lanky boy paused, awaiting the praise that is sure to come for this accomplishment before the very nature of the kitchen itself seems to near mesmerize him. Appliances, no matter how seemingly mundane, are an entirely new experience, dark eyes wide with clear wonder as one hand lifts to press experimentally at the microwave, the subsequent 'beep' of whatever button he has pressed seeing his hand swept hurriedly away. It is several moments of silent staring before one hand reaches forward again, batting at the machine a second time in a manner so entirely cat-like- until his fingers move to brush against the button that releases the door, the microwave swinging open with such suddenness the creature is forced to duck to avoid being struck by the door- eyes narrowed darkly now as he sees fit to glare at it. Eyes briefly flickering to Dav before he moves to point at the offending machinery.

"I think...maybe....it is a girl....tries to slap me....for...touching it and...snarls at me."

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