He does not understand, cannot perhaps, the life that has been stolen from her, not perhaps to the extent it has, his own understanding limited to some belief that she too may be a pet of sorts in the same manner he and his chosen Alpha exist within the confines of Syn. He does not understand vampires, not beyond that which exists before him, his mind having no ability for foresight in this regard. They simply...exist. How they are made has never truly occurred to him, the man simply incapable of such a higher order of thought, his world so very black and white. Vampires exist. There is not before, there is no after- that the woman's very life had been stolen in every sense of the word holds no meaning for him, the sadness within her tone perhaps his only indication that she, in some way, feels...unhappy. Emotions are a difficult thing after all, such things unable to be perceived within himself, much less in others and as such his eyes continue to linger on her frame, reading what is unsaid, perceiving what he can from her form in these moments though he cannot truly understand the why of it. She is...upset, as tetra is often upset and yet he is powerless to alleviate this, simply accepting this expression of emotion and moving onward, holding the creased photo towards her for her inspection this moment a surprisingly gentle one perhaps, the barest hint of tenderness in this shared appreciation of the past- though whether Tobias can even perceive time is perhaps a debatable thing.

He moves to take the photograph back once more, this treasured, faded image tucked carefully back into his pockets, one of the few things Risqué has not confiscated from him, dark eyes dropped to her own in this moment as she speaks, confirming she is indeed alone- without a pack, it would seem however that he has perhaps misunderstood her words in this moment, youthful features frowning now as he seems to contemplate for a moment, speaking once more, voice entirely devoid of emotion, face just as expressionless, unware perhaps that such expressions are hardly deemed normal and yet- his lack of emotion is surely clear in this moment.

"Did...your pack die? Mother and Father...died....the vampires...took them...away and made it...all burn....and burn...and burn...burn...burn."

He seems, momentarily, to become fixated on this single word, his sentence perhaps not making entirely to much sense as he continues to repeat this single phrase over and over before he finally seems to stop his tirade, eyes fixating upon her once more blinking rapidly a moment as if only now seeming to re-enter conscious thought, the first signs of his insanity becoming clear now, perhaps as he suddenly pivots upon one bare foot, marching back towards the tree he had previously clung to, heading for his farm set at it's base- the toys he had been playing with upon her arrival. He pauses a moment, reaching down to gather a selection of plastic animals in his hands before moving to march back towards the woman, abruptly holding out this array of animals for her inspection. His collection consists of pigs and sheep, a cow and bull, two donkeys, several horses, a goose with no legs, a ginger cat missing it's tail and a sheep dog that has evidently been well loved and covered in dirt.

"You can...have one and then....you will....not be alone. They are very...friendly but...sometimes...the Cloud...bites."

The Cloud, more commonly known as the sheep is indicated in this moment, although as to how it bites remains to be seen, a figment of his imagination perhaps, or else some lingering belief that sheep are carnivorous. A smile of sorts moves to touch his features now, a grin offered for barely a moment before his features fall blank once more, continuing to stare at her now once more, oblivious to the fact he should hold his facial features for a little longer, waiting for the vampire to choose herself a...friend.

"You can be...in my pack...if you want. Tetra...always makes me...say hello nicely...too the ...pretty ones. I think maybe...he likes girls."

His shoulder's roll in a shrug of sorts, a copied action, one he has learned to mimic as he regards the woman still, entirely unsure as to whether she is pretty or not, his mind incapable of this perception, understanding only that Tetradore likes the pretty ones and as such, perhaps he will like this one. He did say hello nicely after all.

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