He had come early that morning, well before sun rise, spotted paws hoisting himself up easily though the window of Davante's home to land silently within the man's kitchen and amongst the warlocks other collection of felines. The Leopard has come to find contentment in the smaller animals, endlessly amused by their behaviours that seem so like his own, content to allow them to brush and coil between his legs in greeting as a purr rises within his throat, having accepted his place as their King- though indeed the occasional battle over just whom owned the bed, the sunny corner or Davante himself continued. This morning however, the home is quiet, Davante surely still asleep and as such the tall, lithe Leopard moves to glide softly into the living room to step up and onto the couch, stretching himself full length across it in seeming contentment as Church places himself nearby and the other cats return to their own sleeping places. His patience however, is a precarious thing. He had grown born with Tetradore's sleeping and Birdie's refusal to leave her room, Nadya would not entertain him and Regan was absent still, leaving the boy to wander to his second home of sorts in anticipation of both attention and a meal. He has come to favour Davante's cooking and the endless plethora of amusement the mans apartment so often creates in the days in which Tobias is not given to rest atop the counter in the mans shop like a golden ornament that attracts the stroking hands and pats he so delights in. Today however- Davante is still asleep and Tobias, it would seem, has grown tired of waiting- having rested quietly upon the couch for no more then twenty minutes before his unusual mind fixates elsewhere.

That long, thick tail flicks as he slides from the couch once more, features contorted into as much of a frown as a leopard can achieve as he paces silently towards Davante's room, shoulder thrown against the door to open it as he strolls within. Personal space, it would seem, has never truly been the young man's forte. Tobias failing to realise entirely how or why such a thing may be frowned upon as he pads forward, golden eyes peering towards the sleeping man, gaze drifting towards the other side of the bed, content, this time- to find the bed empty of any female presence as a purr of satisfaction rises within his throat. The manner of waking Davante however, exists still. For a moment the glorious animal simply strides forward one paw lifted to bat at Davante's hand as it hangs from the bed- achieving little more then seeing the man roll into an entirely different position as an irritated hiss seeps from the felines lips and he strides towards the desk within the mans room now. He desires Davante's attention, demands it and as such will have it. Few ever dare to correct his behaviour, Nadya alone seeing fit to exact discipline upon him while others only seek to encourage him further and as such the boy has learned only that Nadya will oppose him, cunning mind assured all others remain beneath him in a fashion- save for Tetradore and as such his own behaviours are permitted. He leaps easily atop the desk now, the space far too small for his hefty frame, the wood groaning between his weight before one paw snakes out to bat a pen from the table, watching it topple to the floor as any cat surely does- eyes glanced upward now in anticipation of a reaction to his attention seeking. When Davante fails to rouse still however, several more items are flung with heavy paws, a clock, a lamp, a glass of water and a book hurled to the floor with reckless abandon and playful delight- a hissing snicker parting his jaws as the warlock at last seems to stir.

So many years spent within the company of Tetradore have allowed the cunning creature an awareness of sorts, of when another is on the very cusp of waking, Tetradore distinctly dislking to be woken, seeming to enjoy cuffing the boy over the head with hand or paw should he disturb him and yet...Davante is not Alpha and as such the boy sees no need to offer him that caution as he leaps down now, returning to the foot of the bed before rather suddenly climbing upwards. A small space exists, between bed and sheet, Davante's feet providing just enough of a gap to allow the leopard to slide beneath the blankets now, spotted form slinking alongside the slowly waking man, utterly oblivious to how such a thing may be well beyond inappropriate as he very near proceeds to rest his form atop Davante's chest. A series of purrs rumble rapidly within his throat, content in this new, heated position he has found, glowing golden eyes held inches from Davantes own as he rests, so unaware the warlock may not appreciate another man in his bed- let alone atop him, as Tobias is now- waiting for Davante to wake as claws begin to flex ever so slowly in utter pleasure at his new seat atop the very man whose attention he desires. He is hungry after all and someone must feed him.....

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