The sound of another approaching hardly goes unnoticed by the over-sized feline that has taken to basking within his new found box, a box he is utterly assured is now his own personal property despite the evidence of ownership that lay strewn around him. His mentality, perhaps, is entirely animalistic in this regard, the West side his personal and claimed territory and by that notion everything that exists within it is surely his own until the day another Were may be given to prove strong enough to take it from him. One dark eye moves to roll slightly sideways, eyeing the approaching warlock warily, the scent of the man lingering upon the breeze equally analysed by the lanky leopard as he remains stubbornly within his newest acquisition. For a moment he simply continues to watch the other man beneath lashings of ever-wild black hair, eyes narrowed in evident preparation to defend his new favoured sitting position and yet, such is the curiosity of the feline, that the young man remains incapable of looking away from the warlock as the man moves to open the box furthest from him, dark eyes watching as he unpacks a vase before fluffing the packing within. For a moment those dark eyes flicker, that hint of leopard gold flashing from beneath at the swift movement and rustle of the packaging alone, the boy readily drawn to anything given to flicker or flash. Yet it is not until the crinkly ball emerges that any true reaction is given to be received.

The lanky young man rolls almost instantly within the box, bringing his limbs beneath him and into a ready pouncing position, head lowering behind the rim of the box until only those dark eyes are visible, pupils dilated and held firmly upon the ball that has so fixated his attention. The faintest brushing sound is the only indication of any further change within the boy, the young man making use of his partial shifting ability, his long, gold and black spotted tail falling suddenly free of the box, matching gold and black ears appearing atop his skull as claws readily extend from his fingernails until the boy resembles something of a delightful anime character. He is utterly unable, it would seem, to ignore his animal instincts in this regard, incapable of holding back all of his feline form as his rear end....shakes slightly, finding the correct position for his impending leap as the ball is tossed rather haphazardly into the box, having barely landed within the packing before the creature lunges, launching up from within his own hiding place to land with incredible force within the second box, packing peanuts sent flying in every direction in an explosion of white and foam. It is merely unfortunate perhaps, that his entire form is far too large to fit within the second box, his rear half stretched out across the pavement, long, luxurious tail flicking wildly from side to side as he frantically searched for his crinkly prey with a desperation only a cat can truly manage in search of a perceived victim.

It is several moments before his head reappears from within the packing peanuts, the boy suddenly tumbling backward and onto his back, the crinkly ball resting with satisfaction upon his chest as a series of purrs vibrate from within, evident oblivious to the absurdity of a grown man lying upon his back in the middle of the street with half his animal appendages and a ball resting atop his chest and held close with clawed hands. It is only after several moments of gloating and basking within his victory that the Were seems to remember the warlock at all. That flash of Leopard gold fades readily from his gaze, eyes returned to a dark chocolate hue alone as they fixate now upon the other man, head tilted slightly to the side as if to better observe him before the lanky, lithe, toned young man proceeds to sit up, ball still held firmly within his hands.

"I am....going to keep it....for always."

That Davante will have to pry the ball from him should he desire it back is evidently clear, long tail moving to encircle his form now, one hand moving to loving stroke this favoured part of himself as those small, neat ears flicker atop his skull once more and towards the warlock, a moment of silence given to pass before he moves to shift abruptly closer to the other man, turning suddenly to lay himself down bizarrely at Davante's feet, head resting atop the other mans shoes, hands suddenly held up and towards him, palms exposed and claws retracted, his crinkly ball resting beside him once more as he proceeds to.....show the warlock his hands, although why remains to be seen. When several moments of no action are given to follow the volatile young man simply frowns, a growl of sorts rising within his throat, expressing his obvious displeasure now, a huff of sorts released from his lips.

"You are...supposed to....pat my...paws."

He adores having the palms of his 'paws' petted, oblivious to how or why this may be in any way abnormal for a grown man and yet evidently he simply does not care, head twisting to look up once more, evidently content to demand he be obeyed in this moment before his fractured voice seems to find the air yet again.

"This is....my....territory.....but.....you can stay.....if you want."

It is rare indeed for anyone, Were or otherwise to be permitted within the territory of Tobias and Tetradore and yet the warlocks evident act of play has seemingly earned him at least a trial run. The snap and crack of bone sees the man suddenly give way to the Leopard entirely, human form replaced with that glorious pelt of gold and marked in black rosettes, dark eyes faded to a honeyed amber as he stretches out entirely atop Davante's feet, each muscle rippling beneath that powerful feline form and thick, luxuriant fur, white underside exposed in these moments. He is perhaps a questionable human being and yet within his animal form the boy is the very essence of perfection itself. He continues to hold his rather large paws upwards- and as any cat, waits to be adored and sufficiently worshipped.

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