The flying plates within the restaurant had momentarily captured the young man's attention, those dark eyes moving to fixate on the momentarily levitating crockery with clear amusement before his gaze returns to Birdie once more, seeming both surprised and yet...accepting of this new found ability all the same, offering little more then a nod of satisfaction before waiting for the woman to join him- content to march back towards the West side and his own territory, Birdie remaining just behind him as she should. It is perhaps his own ranking within his pack, his own domineering nature that ascertains his need to lead. Without Tetradore's presence the boy simply asserts his own nature, Birdie moving into a more submissive role perhaps, one the man approves of as he leads and yet the unease within the women is not entirely ignored. The manner in which she continues to shift away from any man given to pass them sees the young leopards features contort slightly into a look of bemusement, eyes flicking from his companion to each passing man and back again, a muttering of sorts heard beneath his breath before he pivots suddenly upon the balls of his feet, watching back to snatch the woman's wrist within his long fingers, jerking her forward and beside him, against him- if only slightly behind and yet placing her between himself and the buildings they pass- his own form a shield against the other people whom pass. He allows his own form to shift, if only slightly, once the west side is reached and the amount of people lessens dramatically, the reputation of the warehouse district assuring few- if any, are given to wander about within the late afternoon. His ever favoured tail readily appears, followed by the neat black ears that so often rest atop his head, fingernails replaced with claws though they remain sheathed in these moments. He prefers his animal form, always has and yet his need to communicate often demands a human skin, his new found ability to shift only partially seeming to have come from a sheer desire to rest in between. Yet nor is he fool enough to wander in such a form in broad daylight or obvious sight of any hunters.

That gold and spotted tail flicks upward, caught easily in his right hand, the man seemingly determined to carry his precious tail rather than have it drape across the ground like a common house cat, this part of his anatomy perhaps the single part he is determined to keep clean- much to Nadya's chagrin. The scent of Lucian is fainter now, the tall man having been absent for some weeks and yet Tobias is still content to perform his task whenever he is able, continuing to guard the armoury, watching over the warehouse on those few nights or days he may be given to escape. He moves to follow the woman inside the house they had once shared all the same, bare feet silent atop the steel floors as he wanders, eyes aglow within the gloom until the lights flicker on, ears folding back as he adjusts to the light, seeking the higher levels and the promise of his hammock though indeed he is assured already his time short. Risqué is sure to become aware of his absence soon, Tetra capable of distracting her only so long, though perhaps she is still asleep.

Birdie's movement towards the kitchen sees the young man readily follow, perhaps he has just eaten lunch and yet that chance for more food will surely not be ignored, even if it is a one-off. The woman reaching for the box upon the top shelf sees the deviants eyes widen in anticipation of some further treat, scowling readily as she opens the first aid kit- the man holding little attention in any of the contents, none of it looking even slightly edible. Dark chocolate eyes slide sideways, drawn to the blue tube she has placed beside her upon the bench, the white cream resting upon her fingers as she asks for his neck, ready disdain touching his features now as he shifts in discomfort. Yet he remembers still the sting of her hands against his face as his teeth sunk into her hand the last time she had tried to apply any sort of...care towards him. He is simply un-used to such things, his own healing abilities all he has ever needed and yet the collars continued presence and his continued healing in this regard has only worsened the situation, clawed fingers cutting at his neck in agitation again and again each time it heals. Indecision exists clearly within his gaze in this moment, the man disliking any form of touch against him and yet what modicum of respect he holds for the woman and her slapping ability has seen him rethink the situation as he leans atop the counter.

"Fine."

It is...begrudging and highly so, the word very near snapped at her as he moves to angle his head slightly away from her, offering her access to his neck as he continues to lean upon the bench beside her. Long fingers move to tug at the first aid, pulling it sneakily towards himself in those few moments, content to finger through it experimentally, pulling at bandages and creams and scissors, a packet of syringes and some sort of liquid, amused until he feels cold fingers against his neck, flinching suddenly away from her.

"That...is cold!"

Eyes narrow darkly upon her now, clearly displeased with this sequence of events.

"Why do I...have to have....the cream?"

He sounds entirely like a disobedient three-year old bemoaning the wrong doings of the world as he settles himself once more, eyeing the woman curiously to see whether she will continue to try and apply it, this small outburst little more than yet another test of her resolve, seeing if he may be given to get away with such behavior once more. His attention returns briefly to the first aid kit, a pair of scissors plucked from within.

"What does...this do?"

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