The displeasure and insecurity that radiates from within her form is entirely evident to the spotted creature. He can feel it within his very being, taste it upon the air and within the pheromones that so softly seem to emit from within her and yet still his mind struggles to perceive this state of being she finds herself within. His mind is tired tonight, worn and strained from the supreme effort with which it takes to attempt to understand the influx of emotions that have existed about him and the drastic change in the behaviour of his companion that deviates so far from what he knows. Her form shifts, allowing him further space, the gangly leopard moving to pull himself further beneath the bed. It has been years now, since he has lived within the warehouses that decorate the west side, the steel walls and rotted beams that permeate so strongly with the smell of fish having once been his home before his move to Syn and in turn, to the Ark in the wake of its destruction. The floating fighting ring having become his permanent home. Though before such a place, before even this city- the boy had spent the better part of his formative years upon the streets, his ever-skinny frame perhaps a testament to that. Despite the sheer amount of food he seemed to consume the cat forever remained wiry, lean, something having faltered so early on within his development perhaps- his form forever within the clutches of a state so seemingly underfed.

The life of Tobias, after all, had surely been no simply task and while perhaps he had found his way by fate or fortunate to something better- the boy remains content all the same to lay upon the battered wooden floor within the forgotten storehouse as he had for so many years. His purr rises easily within his throat, a response to the presence of his companion alone as he rests against her, seeking to reaffirm those bonds with touch that had been so tested and pulled at tonight. It is an animalistic desire, one he is incapable of ignoring, seeking that closeness now as his tongue runs over her fur. Oblivious perhaps, to the very notion that it is a feline gesture he affords her and hardly one suitable for a canine. Tobias however, is singular in his desires, the boy assured he is right in almost all things he does and in this he had learned he is surely correct to do as such. So he does. His tongue brushes over the grey and black fur of her frame, working his way upward and towards her damaged neck. This is a wound he understands, one that matches his own. He understands this pain, in some fashion at least, those gleaming golden eyes recognising the acidic burn before his tongue brushes over it, scowling slightly at that acidic taste that still remains. His knowledge in this is basal perhaps, his mind understanding only that it is a wound and wounds must be clean, saliva seeking to soothe her scar as he had done his own all those months ago. The whimper that rises from within her throat and the manner in which she shifts from him earning a disgruntled huff from, tail flicking from side to side.

Has to be....clean. I...fix but...must stay still.

The words press firmly into the canines mind in the same way Tetra's do his own, a command of sorts within them, the gangly Leopard assured he can repair such a wound if only she will let him. Tobias a decidedly impatient creature when he should choose to be, one large paw lifted to rest upon her back, pressing down, very near seeking to hold her in place before he returns his tongue to her damaged neck, working upon it once more, content to do as such until he is assured it is clean. One dark ear turns once more in response to her words, head tilted slightly, though whether indeed he understands them can hardly be said, features frowning in as much as they can be said to do so within his animal form.

Tobi...has....two selfs....

It is a truly unusual thing to say, the first time the boy has ever shown any true understanding of another side to his being, frustration evident upon his features as he snorts in disdain, tail lashing once more, his mind irritable in these thoughts as he struggles to consider them. His mind so clearly rebelling against them. Yet, he has never before showed such mindfulness- his understanding of self so desperately limited- the strain upon him so entirely clear before he seems to lose the thought entirely. Head shaking before the gold of his gaze rests upon his companion, tongue halted in its work.

Birdie.....other self is.....bad....but....Birdie is....good.

His words find their way into her mind once more, head abruptly lowered to butt against her own, forehead pressed against her in a truly feline gesture of affection.

Tetra....will not be...mad. Tetra forgets to...be mad but Birdie not...do it again. I do not...like it.

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