The blue-eyed warlocks continued ability to simply go along with his animalistic desires, if not facilitate them, rather then seeking to continue to chastise him as Nadya so often does has rapidly seen the young man find his newest companions company a desirable thing, fractured mind so easily piecing together these momentary pleasures, formulating an understanding of his newest accomplice as he seeks to test the boundaries perhaps- of just how far Davante may permit him to go. The man's nod of approval in regards to the mauled chunk of meat the semi-wild cat has proceeded to mutilate sees the warlock offered a grin of sorts in return before the sudden discovery of what the boy perceives to be clearly misplaced fur rapidly results in a change of mood- even Davante's illusion momentarily ignored as the feline seems content to ponder this latest discovery. It is the result perhaps, of so many, many years spent alone and barely able to feed himself, so much in regards to the young man evidently so very....behind his similarly aged peers, physical form perhaps having suffered in some regards as a result of this constant malnutrition as a child. Thus it is a somewhat late discovery of what most men are surely given to accept and understand at a far younger age. Fingers reach to brush almost experimentally against this rougher, darker shade of hair that seems to have appeared upon the lower regions of his face, little more than a sprinkling- truly and yet the animalistic male has never proven entirely capable of handling change in any form, a scowl readily crossing his features as those eyes of dark chocolate move to rest upon his companion once more.

The short bark of laughter the warlock offers in the moments following his refusal of the meat Tobias had been willing to share sees that frown merely deepen in an attempt to understand the humour of the situation, Davante's explanation seeming to earn him little more then an utterly blank look. He understands 'hair', his own head adorned with a thick wealth of black locks that forever seem to tumble and tangle into the length of his lashes and darkened gaze, yet the rough touch to the hair upon his face is entirely different to the feel of that upon his head, the boy clearly unable to make this distinction- resulting entirely in the confusion that now marks his features once more.

"Hair is....for head...not for....face. I want it to...go away!"

That he is clearly displeased with this new look is surely evident, eyes continuing to remain expectantly upon the other man as if believing Davante alone may possess some ability to aid him in such a thing, expectant of an answer in these few moments. He has...precious few friends within this existence and fewer still whom are willing to indulge the barrage of questions and incapability's that so often seem to filter from his mind. Tetradore is perhaps the single male influence within his life and 15 years away from his brother have hardly done the vagabond any favours. He is a mistrustful being, volatile nature given far more to violence then patience, mind easily frustrated, prone to outbursts of emotion he simply cannot understand, each and every feeling contorted into some facet of agitation or blind rage. He is wary of others, inclined to strike before like, often refusing entirely to acknowledge those he does not know- even if it is that they desire to help him and as such it is a rarity, truly, for the boy to seek any true form of help. Some part him however, has clearly acknowledged a value within the other man, accepted that perhaps he holds.....some knowledge in the same manner as Tetradore, that he knows what Tobias does not and may hold some further value in that regard. He waits only a moment longer, wild eyes watching the man from beneath equally wild hair- seeking some sort of answer before the illusion of his prey escaping seems to finally draw his attention away- eyes narrowing rapidly upon the meat that seems to be fleeing down the road.

The crack and crunch of bone, painful even to the boy born with such an affinity, sees his human form once more abandoned in favour of his leopard skin and glorious golden fur marked here and there with darkening rosettes of ink. That lean, muscular feline frame crouches readily now before slinking like liquid oil along the floor with silent ease, creeping after the meat that so attempts to outwit him- unaware entirely perhaps that the warlock has used such a distraction to more easily direct him down the road and towards the other mans home. He pauses only once within his careful hunting, sizeable jaws parting to release a yowl of sorts in Davante's direction, clearly displeased that the other man is not following in a manner the cat deems fast enough- before continuing to stalk his prey down the street.

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