It is only be means of intense pushing that the lounging jungle cat can be persuaded to detangle himself from his hammock bed in the rafters of Lucian's Armory Shop, Birdie's insistence that he go outside earning the wolf-girl little more than a slash of his paw as jaws part in disdain to ward her away. She is not pack, does not have to yield to his command and yet she has readily submitted to him on more then one occasion and as such the Leopard is assured she should remember her place beneath him- and thusly not disturb him from his moping. With Nadya having gone to fuel her coffee addiction and Tetra busy skulking about, his paranoia demanding he assure they have not been followed from the club, the boy is momentarily left to his own devices, content to relish this moment to be within his own bed before Birdie becomes insistent, lips parted once more to spit and hiss at the obsessive woman and her need to clean as he leaps from his lounging position to land atop the steel floor with a commanding thud before padding down the stairs and towards the door, shoulder thrown heavily against it as he moves to step outside, offering a moment rumbling greeting to Lucian himself before striding into the sun.

His lean, toned form arches and stretches in the manner only a cat can achieve, beautiful pelt of gold and black aglow within the sun before each muscle rolls and coils, the cat launched upward to land atop the roof of the store, content now to patrol his territory, much of the West Side underneath his domineering command and indeed as any male would do he requires to inspect such things. His lope is easy, steady and yet silent, eyes of dark gold drawn with callous ease along his surroundings before he moves to taste of the wind- a new odour detected amongst the steel and oil and fish of the harbour. It is a softer scent, decidedly feminine, lingering from the small park upon the edges of the warehouse district, the lack of game assuring none of his pack ever truly linger within it and yet for now the creature is drawn towards it. His leopard skin moves to recede, fur shifted aside as that wild mop of dark hair becomes apparent, thickened ebony locks tumbling into the dark of those wild eyes as the animal is replaced by a young man, though indeed one whom lingers so perilously close to the line between human and wild, his instincts unlike any other, even within his human skin. He pauses only long enough to tug at his shirt, straightening it against his skin before those fathomless dark eyes fall upon the woman as she reads, lip lifted upward in disdain at the sight of the dog.

He loathes such animals, tongue flicking over his teeth in some facet of discord before he swings from the roof, bare feet landing against the browning grass of the small park as he wanders forward, hands tucked into his jeans, eyes narrowed as his mind struggles to perceive the young woman before him. Her scent is familiar to him and yet his eyes cannot seem to place her image, the fractured, broken creature seeking any tendril of familiarity upon her. She has changed perhaps, in the two years since he had seen her last, grown, matured into more woman then girl and his mind seems unable to perceive this, her scent causing a tangle of memory to wind and weave within his mind and yet he remembers someone younger , his ability to perceive time a truly limited thing. Yet still he is assured he knows her, curiosity held in every line of her form as he shifts closer and closer still, head tilted and turned in a manner almost child-like, deceptive perhaps, for the truly volatile creature such a face conceals. He moves until he is very near behind her, towering height allowing him to lean over her, his shadow falling across her book as he takes the opportunity of his proximity to inhale her scent once more- shifting abruptly back as he does. He dislikes being touched, only a select few permitted to be within the dominant creatures space and as such removes the opportunity for now- remaining behind the woman still. That baritone voice sliding into the air, a noticeable edge within it all the same, a promise of violent intent sheathed beneath those broken words as they are forced out between his lips.

"This is...my territory......you cannot....be here....you have to ask."

It would seem he is content, even so, to enforce his rules. He is the dominant predator on the West side and she is no more than a lone female, or so he believes, a low ranking creature, beneath him as so many are, mind still turning upon itself.

"I....remember you."

He is sure he does, dark eyes lingering upon her still, flicking momentarily to the dog, a growl caught within his throat, disliking the creature entirely before his attention returns to the woman he is sure he remembers, mind rapidly attempting to place her as he waits for her to turn, watching her warily beneath lashings of wild hair. Perhaps his remembrance of her may yet save her from his wrath at having entered his territory without permission, seemingly oblivious to the fact that not all understand the rules of the Were, though surely she soon will.

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