It is the scent that brings him- that utter reek of death that lures the creature from the confines of the Ark tonight and away from the spray of blood and battle that he has become so accustomed to watching from his seat beside his Alpha's throne, those golden leopard eyes forever focused on the fighting below that he and Tetradore have so long lorded over. It is the pause between fights, the ring of the half time bell and his panther companions need to break up an argument over money that sees the gold and black creature slink away and into the depths of the ship, sliding eventually out and into the night in search of this scent. Death is familiar to him, that decaying scent more often than not alluding to a free meal- one that does not require he slaughter it first and Tobias never was one to turn down a meal- no matter how decayed it might be. He is not as the others of his pack- or of this city. His mind is different, fractured, broken and shattered beyond all repair until that line between boy and beast had become so perilously thin the man has become almost incapable of keeping the animalistic side at bay. So many waiting in line upon the docks step out of his way, the other Were's parting like the red sea before Moses himself to allow the leopard passage, this undisputed King of the Ring whom bows only to one- the feline melting into the shadows of his territory, following that trail as his own unique power extends.

They cannot hide from him- no one can, the Leopard by far the most superior hunter amongst all whom call this city home, the fractured deviant readily adjusting his pace and angle as if almost possessed to come from behind the wandering Hunter as any predator does. His feline form lifts and extends, the powerful cat launching upward to land atop the warehouse roof- the distant sounds of the Ark's music echoing even here as the creature prowls, each muscle coiling and rolling within as he draws closer and closer to that scent and yet- it would seem he is to be disappointed. There is no kill to be had, no dead creature- but a man, a Hunter- his own instincts recoiling from this creature whom brings nothing but the promise of death and yet.....unless he is forced, unless he is made to respect- he will not. It is not within his nature to be cautious. He is reckless, volatile, feared for what he is and respected for it amongst his own kind, so few willing to deal with a creature so many deem insane. They fear what they do not understand and the man has simply come to learn that many do not understand him- many fear him and it is this response he expects in turn. Saliva pools readily within his jaws as that tongue brushes across his lips, the Leopard seeming merely...curious of the man now as he leaps from the rooftop to land atop a metal beam of sorts that exists above the Hunter, making little effort to be quiet, announcing his presence now as he proceeds to lay himself atop the beam, dark eyes aglow within the gloom.

For a moment the Leopard merely exists, head tilted and turned like a curious puppy as he peers down upon the Hunter below- one paw suddenly extended, reaching down to very near stroke the Hunter's hair, as if he delights in such an action, a hissing sound rising within his throat- the Leopard version of a snicker as that paw is withdrawn.

Preeeety Hunter. My...territory....not yours.

The man will not understand his words, little more than rumbling growls to his ears and yet it would seem it hardly matters, the emotionless creature uncaring as to whether or not his voice is observed. He will remove this Hunter as soon as he become boring. Insanity it would seem- has come to play.

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