He does not care, it would seem, if he is the first person to assist her in anything, this point of conversation no longer holding relativity within his mind, that cunning place of thought already turned towards that which he deems far more important, so shamelessly manipulating her emotions to better suit his own selfish needs as his tongue rasps against her, seeming to dangle both affection and company before her, a promise of friendship, if only to coerce her into maintaining his presence for as long as he should wish it- though whether he will make good on such a promise cannot be said as the grey wolf in turn assures him of her good behaviour in the moments before his rather dramatic collapse. Her determination to hunt beside him once more as she returns the playful batting of paws seems to gain his attention as he lounges upon his back in a manner only a feline can truly do, stretching with ease atop the earth before seeming to lose interest in this task entirely, rolling back onto his feet to wander lackadaisically away, assured she would follow and allowing something of a smirk as she does, offering the woman an entirely new deal now. He is, to some extent, a highly playful creature, his manner that of a child in some many regards, a child given to wander aimlessly when he is without his pack and leader, one desperately seeking any form of direction- often attempting to forge his own and indeed, if a leader does not make themselves known, he is entirely content to take over that role, assured of his position above the wolf, regardless of her own interpretation of such things.

Her words see his tawny gold frame pause once more, moving to face her as lengthy claws, sharpened like blackthorns scrap against the earth in a cattish attempt to fashion a scratching post of sorts, long tail moving to wrap about his paws, merely the tip continuing to flick as dark golden eyes rest upon her, the leopard seeming almost entirely as if he contemplates her offer, though the true extent of his thoughts can hardly be known, instinct is would seem, is something of a needs must when the devil drives, something he does not entirely control and results in his continuing to stare at her for several minutes, a reaction of many cats, it would seem, to simply stare for little to no apparent reason before she states she does not understand the meaning of game. The spotted boy merely allows his head to tilt once more, a snort of discontent pushed free as a rumble coils within his chest once more, head tossed as he stands, pelt shaken free of dust and dirt as he pauses to lick at one paw, running the wet appendage behind his ear in some half-hearted effort at cleaning before he seems to decide to return his attention to her, voice finding her ears.

Game is...easy. I will...tell you and we will...share food.

Whether this is true or he simply lies remains to be seen as he glides forward once more, brushing his long frame against her own, curving around her in a manner almost serpentine as he purrs, seeming delighted in this little game he plays, seeing indeed if he can tease any shred of fear from her, delighting in such emotions before he wanders off again, turning a lazy circle, hunters instinct so readily alight within the darkness as he reclines upon his haunches.

I will....close my eyes.....and Birdie will hide. If I find you....I win. Go.

That this is shameless cheating remains to be seen, the Wolf oblivious to his ability to find what hides, the cat playing a game he cannot possibly lose, hedging his bets, perhaps as those golden eyes flicker closed. He enjoys the hunt, thrives upon it and indeed seeks to force the girl into his game. Perhaps, when he wins, he may help her to hunt, perhaps he will even share, though truly such things are a gamble. He will be rather annoyed however, if he opens his eyes and she has not hidden sufficiently well.

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