Those dark eyes remain wholly fixated upon his companion, the lanky deviant seemingly unwilling to come any closer to the man nor content with allowing him to approach in turn, doing merely as he was asked in display of his wounded leg before hurriedly concealing it once more. After all, any wild animal seeks to hide it's wounds, it is only natural- the line between human and animal within the shaggy haired vagabond decidedly thin and as such his mind cannot make this distinction in this moment. A wounded Tobias is a particularly...prickly being, the boy assured wounds need little mote then licking to heal, so many years upon his own having merely confirmed this fact within his mind. The manner in which Tetradore moves to gently massage his temples in some effort to alleviate stress momentarily sees the younger man mimic this action- simply because he can, because he seems to find it wholly amusing until the almost nervous energy existing within his companion seems to become clear- dark eyes narrowing as hands fall to his sides once more. It is rare indeed for the panther to display any hint of nervousness- although perhaps in this case it is...apprehension as opposed to any true fear. Yet Tobias is aware of his partner, almost dangerously so, even the most subtle of changes within his Leader's being rapidly picked up upon and indeed he simply reacts in turn, agitation beginning to seep into his form- the man becoming decidedly restless as he stands, fidgeting beneath Tetradore's gaze though holding his position still.

The sudden straightening of his companion however seems to indicate some sort of action or command will follow, the Leopards attention refocused once more like a dog to the sound of a whistle and yet still those fathomless near-black eyes remain narrowed in wariness all the same, resting upon the emerald hue of the other man. He is aware perhaps, in as much as such a creature can be said to be aware of truly anything that this is an action of Tetradore's power. After all, it is a power he borrows frequently. He is already...unwilling to disobey the man to a certain extent, such added persuasion on tones he finds agreeable surely highly effective against him and yet for the barest of moment's their exists some hesitation still. It has been months since his single and only rebellion against his leader, the scar adorning the flesh of his neck a reminder of their only true disagreement and yet it is surely not their last. There is sure to be another day in which the younger Leopard may very well seek to test his strength again, to flex young muscle if only to see how far it might get him, Tobias upon the cusp of his prime byway of both animal and man- it is the natural order of things after all, that eventually the boy may seek to test his Leader again though whether that will be here and now remains to be seen.

This stalemate seems to last only as long as it takes the boy to finally avert his gaze from his companion in a subtle acknowledgement of submission, words muttered sharply beneath his breath as he comes forward and towards the offered chair, flopping down into it in a manner entirely ungraceful as he does, arms folding across his chest now as dark eyes look upward and towards the man now standing before him.

"Tetra?"

He waits, assured the man's focus is on him entirely once more, each line of that lanky frame...tense, uncomfortable and wholly unpredictable though for now at least- he obeys.

"I fucking....hate this chair."

It is the situation he hates perhaps, and yet that fractured mind has fixated that loathing upon the chair itself, content to blame the chair for the pain in his leg and the situation before him, tangled locks falling back into his gaze. He has had wounds treated before, that cunning mind remembers, some things are simply never forgotten, the boy long ago having associated such things with utter unpleasantness as he seems to linger upon the very edge of begrudging obedience- and violent meltdown. He has seated himself neither because he was asked nor compelled, though such things have surely aided this reaction indeed he simply.....trusts the other man not to harm him. He has trusted Tetradore, wholly, since he was barely a kitten while all others he remains near violently opposed against being in his proximity let alone laying hands upon him. He dislikes touch, in most circumstances, tolerates others, tolerates pack- because it pleases Tetra that he does so, his unwavering loyalty perhaps his single, most redeeming feature and yet one surely about to be...strained. He waits only as long as it takes Tetra to make any further move towards him, one hand reaching out suddenly to grasp the other mans wrist in his own hand, wary gaze watching him still beneath those thick black locks.

"Are you...going....to.....hurt me?"

His grip upon the other man's wrist slowly releases, hands returned to rest on either side of the chair now, evidently seeking an answers to this most pivotal of questions though whether he can be made to understand this is necessary, lest he lose the limb entirely, cannot be said.

"Will...there be....water?"

It is the final question he remains content to ask and yet within it exists....an almost allowance of sorts, that he has permitted Tetradore to do....something, if not accepted that the man surely will regardless of his wishes. Water however, may very well be one step to far, eyes narrowed slightly once more in anticipation of this answer.

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