A purr of satisfaction rises easily within his throat as the wolf still beneath him, his tongue moving to work at that wound upon her neck once more, a scowl of displeasure tainting his features at the acidic taste that still remained so faintly upon it. Despite his faults, despite the manner in which the fabric of his mind so often fails to knot together so neatly as it should the man remembers this, he remembers this taste and indeed the same wound upon his own flesh as it had burned and bitten through fur and skin and into flesh while Tetradore held him down. This is a memory he has not forgotten, one so entirely potent and stark that even the fractured confines of his own thoughts fail to lose such a thing within that abyss of memory that seems so wholly selective for the boy. He remembers Tetradore's fangs just as he remembers the mans displeasure with him and indeed the lingering weeks that had followed in which he had been forced to lay upon the floor outside the mans room in the hope his companion might allow him within again. He moves to do just as he did then, sweeping away at the wound, cleaning it as he had cleaned his before this mention of two sides seems to fall so suddenly from his lips within those fractured words.

Whether or not the boy has truly understood what he has said or indeed even remembers it remains to be seen, that fathomless dark gaze meeting her own once more- this sudden display of clarity seeming to fade near within the same moment. He has never before displayed any knowledge of another half, at least, not when his current half is so entirely in control. Such knowledge reserved entirely for that side of himself so few had ever been given to witness and one that seemed to struggle more often then not to break through the thick haze within his ever so complex mind and the scattered remnants within it. His head tilts ever so slightly at the words of the wolf that press upon his mind, tail flicking behind him before that thick, fluffy appendage curls about his form and his features frown in as much as can be managed for a cat. For several moments at least it appears as if the boy hardly understands her words, confusion evident within his features before his head simply shakes.

"Sometimes....are good."

What exactly such a thing means remains to be seen, Tobias evidently content to offer know more as his grooming work finally pauses and his paw at lasts lifts from the grey and black back of the wolf, allowing her to move away at last is she chose to do as such, his own attention returned to Birdie now at this talk of her bad side. He understands, to some extent, that which she speaks of- the way she had been tonight unlike she had ever been before- his mind confused still over this before his head simply shakes once more. He has, perhaps, misunderstood and yet the word 'bad' he knows well, a word he does not associate with his companion in any fashion and as such he simply seeks to deny it.

"Birdie is....not bad."

He assures her simply, head nodded with assurance before her lick to the side of his face sees his features wrinkle in response, gaze turned back upon her at this mention of Tetra and locking up, his own tail flicking readily in disdain now. He understands to some extent what she means, these words not unfamiliar to the fabric of his mind and yet the deviant has never before seen his companion lock another up, his understanding of the very nature of Tetradore based so entirely upon that which he has seen him do. For a moment the Leopard moves to extend his head forward, resting it upon the back of the wolf now.

"Tetra....not lock Birdie....up. Tetra is not....like...Risky. This....I know."

He nods his assurance as best he can in this moment, head resting still atop her shoulders. Tobias entirely convinced of these words he offers, his faith within his favoured companion so unwavering.

"Birdie.....will come....home now?"

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