His head moves to tilt ever so slightly, following the girl as she fusses about the racks of clothing, having little desire to pay any true attention, his mind holding little interest in such things as he continues to recline atop the lounge, feet swinging in a deceptively child-like manner as he does. Dark eyes narrow warily as she approaches once more, carrying a bundle of clothing, proceeding to hold one item after the other above his tanned form in an attempt to measure, the boy only glaring critically at this bizarre behaviour- having no intention of indulging her, merely doing as he is commend to do- watching over her in these moments though he is assured there is little danger amongst the racks of clothing unless a particularly large rack should topple upon her. He is impatient, restless, so very close to finding Tetra once more and yet fear of being chastised for abandoning the girl sees him remain dutifully in her presence, content to allow her to play whatever ridiculous game it is she is attempting to partake of despite the waste of time he believes it is. Despite his agitation however, he does not mind Naddy entirely, has become increasingly protective of the girl, clinging to what shreds of pack he has left, the young woman so perfectly embodying such things. He likes her, despite himself and yet even his willingness to accept her cannot overcome his displeasure in her suggestion that he should bathe, eyes narrowing darkly now as he very near growls, lean, toned form tensing in these moments.

Water is perhaps his single weakness, his fear of the liquid having followed him from childhood, the young man often refusing entirely to go outside at the mere chance of rain, his fear absolute, the boy truly and entirely believing water in any form may bring him harm. It is illogical perhaps and yet even a mere rain drop seems to insight panic within him- her suggestion evidently unappreciated as he mutters beneath his breath. Her words however, do not go entirely unheard, the young man moving to hold one hand in front of him, licking it from palm to fingers before proceeding to wipe at his face, evidently attempting to 'groom' himself in an animalistic fashion, doing little more then smearing the dirt around in some attempt to please her, offering a lopsided grin as he does- evidently pleased with his sub-par efforts.

"Why do you need....to see....my face?"

This, he thinks, is a perfectly ridiculous comment on her part, snorting once more as he folds his arms, resting his head upon them in the very image of a petulant and bored child, attempting to make his displeasure in having to wait entirely clear, as if it may not have already been. Dark chocolate eyes flicker back to her own as she approaches once more, this time with an armful of clothing he proceeds to ignore, attention far more readily captivated by the smaller bag she holds and the mixture of meat and sugar that rises so tantalizingly from it. Her ultimatum however, rapidly sees his enthusiasm fold, wild dark eyes flicking from clothing to bag and back again, attempting to perceive entirely what she is ask from him as his lips set in a firm line of disdain. He dislikes clothing, maintains only the bare minimum and indeed has never even worn a shirt with buttons, let alone one that seems to have a matching vest. There are several moments of prolonged silence, cunning mind turning readily upon itself, seeking a loophole or weakness within her 'deal' before he reaches for the jeans she offers him, a growl of sorts caught within his throat as he does, disdaining being outsmarted in this fashion- and yet his need for food is very near all-consuming, his own loop hole perhaps, one Nadya seems content to exploit.

The feminine young woman however, has made a fatal error within her perceived plan, those fathomless dark pools watching her as she returns the bag to her pocket and he pulls on the jeans that are so very much better fitting then his own that he is given to find distaste in the tightness of them, shuffling awkwardly a moment, unused to any clinging fabric before his attention returns to the girl standing before him, the young woman having looked away for a bare moment it would seem as he reaches suddenly for her, one strong arm snaking around her, pulling her suddenly so that her back rests against hard, warm plain his bare chest, the shorter woman fitting so snugly against the young man as he holds her against him with a chuckle of sorts, the sound little more than a rush of warm air against the side of her neck as his left hand slides so sneakily down her thigh to glide into her pocket, plucking a piece of brownie from within. He returns it moments later to his lips, chewing contentedly, taking a bare moment to inhale her ever-pleasing scent before he releases her, smirk curving ever so deviously across his youthful features as he dances away, oblivious perhaps, to the inappropriateness of such....closeness and yet within these same moments it is clear that he has decided, somehow, that her touch against him in his human form is an acceptable thing, a privilege previously extended to Tetradore alone. Her mistake, it would seem- was allowing him to see just where she kept these treats, the boy of the opinion that putting on his new high-end jeans is worthy of a treat in itself.

He pivots neatly away from her then, striding back to his lounge to shrug into the white shirt, leaving it entirely unbuttoned as he rifles through the clothing, snatching the belt from atop the pile, scowling readily at it before he turns to her again, lashings of that wild ebony hair falling into his eyes in the same haphazard manner as always.

"I am not...wearing a...collar. I am not...a....kitty-pet!"

That he believes the belt to be a collar has clearly turned him against it from the outset, the 'collar' tossed back upon the pile that still contains socks, shoes and a rather smart vest, all items he cannot identify else simply chooses not to wear- because he does not know how.

"There...I am done....can I have the.....food now?"

He moves to hold out one hand now, expectant, clearly of the opinion that new (uncomfortable) jeans and an unbuttoned white shirt with no shoes is an entirely acceptable outfit. Perhaps she will have to wrestle them onto him, for it would seem he has reached his clothing limit- or so he belives. He is testing her now, it would seem, seeking to see how strong her resolve in her desire for him to wear such things truly is. After all, if allowed to get away with such behavior- he will exploit it entirely.

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