The woman's assurance that he was, indeed, good with surprises only seems to further please the gangly deviant as those dark eyes linger upon her from beneath that mop of dark hair, lop-sided grin adorning his features in response to such praise. Tobias, after all, still seeks that praise from those around him even if it would so often appear as if he holds so little attention upon them. The animalistic boy however, is far more observant then he often appears, each and every nuance of his companions so easily observed somewhere within the fractured confines of his mind- his ability to learn distinctly focused upon just this talent. To observe those around him and mimic their own actions. The boy understanding...somehow, on some level- that he is not as they are, some part of him desiring all the same to be as Tetra or Birdie or Nadya are and as such it is perhaps his final attempt to connect with those around him, replicating their very actions as if they are his own. Here and now however he is guided by something decidedly different, a nearly animalistic desire, an instinct of sorts to be closer to his companion- lips so easily finding her own. He enjoys the taste of her, the feel of her beneath him and the purring sound that seems to rise from within her own throat that only further seems to satisfy him.

It is unusual perhaps, for the boy to be so bold and yet away from the Ark, away from Tetra and the fear that still seems to grip him in regards to his companions outrage over his actions with Nadya the man is far more driven. He desires his companion in a way both human and animal, both instincts combined to create an urge he finds himself unable to resist. He likes the way she stills beneath him, that animalistic part of him responding so entirely to just that. It is natural, after all, in every sense of the word and for all his inability to understand the emotion of such a thing and perhaps even the nervousness that so afflicts his companion he understands he desires something, wants something from her that he has not sought to attempt to take in some months. She rejects him after all, each and every time, his mind taking several days, at times, to fully understand how or why such a thing occurs before seeking to find another way by which to approach. Yet, his mind remembers those nights in which he had been allowed to remove her shirt and let his fingers trail across that soft skin beneath, such a thing stored within his memory and as such he seeks to duplicate it now- doing just as he had done last time. His lips halted only by her clothing before his gaze lifts up to her own. For several moments those fathomless dark eyes linger upon her own, fingers tracing upon the hem of her shirt in a subtle, silent request for permission to pull her shirt from her as he had done once more.

He can sense her hesitation, innately so, the woman beneath him understood perhaps far better than any other. He knows her, far more then perhaps even she is given to realise and as such even this momentary nervousness sees the shaggy-haired deviant scowl as he straddles her still. His fingers brush beneath her shirt once more, seeking to encourage her further still, the laughter this seems to earn him seeing his head tilt ever so slightly to the side at this previously unseen reaction before Birdie learns forward, affording him permission to remove her shirt. The grin that adorns his features surely displays his pleasure in this as he moves to lift the shirt off and over her head, tossing it into the grass behind him. Her hand reaching for his own momentarily sees him pause before she moves to place it against her side, long fingers caressing the skin there. He barely notices the scarred flesh that runs beneath his hands, after all, for once such as Tobias such things are meaningless. He does not see scars, not as others do, his understanding of beauty decidedly different from the norm. He sees only Birdie- not the scars that mark her. They are meaningless to him. His lips find her own once more, hands so gently exploring her skin now- his touch far more careful then most would surely believe him capable off as his lips trail downward once more. This time- unhindered by her clothing, travelling lower and lower still over this newly exposed flesh.

"This I....like."

Whether he means her body, herself or the very actions they are engaged within remains to be seen, a grin once more touching his features before his fingers halt now at the strap of her bra, one lifted, curious perhaps- if he might encourage her further then they have ever been.....

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