He has been more then patient today, lanky form seated cross-legged upon his bedroom floor as he drives his toy trucks about, quietly making the appropriate noises he has decided trucks should make, the occasional sound of a collision interrupting an otherwise peaceful drive. Tetradore had refused to get up, Jackal had passed out from a night of far too much enjoyment and Birdie was still very much asleep. He understands the rules, knows he is supposed to wait until at least one person is up before he is permitted to wake the others and yet today he has waited and waited. Weekends, evidently, mean little to the boy. One hand moves to drive a cement truck forward, colliding it abruptly with a smaller sports car toy, the explosion sound he makes deliberately louder this time as those dark eyes shift cunningly sideways to see if Birdie has stirred. For all his tangled mind and broken thoughts the young man is decidedly sneaky when he should choose to be, having learned entirely how to hide behind his own shadow of innocence as he does right now. Birdie shifts within her sleep and yet remains sleeping still, a disgruntled mutter slipped from the boys lips before he moves to collide another set of cars, the sound louder again as Birdie rolls and tosses yet still fails to wake. It is with a hiss of utter frustration that the Leopard-Boy proceeds to launch a small dump truck at Birdie's sleeping form, the sound of it colliding against her head seeing the gangly fellow hurry from the room before she can catch sight of him. For several moments still he lingers outside the bedroom door, waiting until the sounds of Birdie getting up can be heard, arms folding across his chest, features shifting hurriedly into an imitation of annoyance he has seen Tetradore wear often before he stalks into the room as if he is entirely agitated.

"Cannot...find....cannot find."

He mutters the words to himself as he moves, lifting pillows and books aside as if he searches diligently for something before those dark eyes fall upon the toy dump truck in Birdie's hands, one finger pointing directly towards it now.

"Birdie took...it!"

If his dump truck had been stolen by Birdie, after all, then surely he could not have thrown it- this a decidedly advanced ruse for the shaggy haired deviant and yet evidently he has learned something new in this regard, even if it is only how better to deceive those around him as his eyes narrow in an entirely falsified glare before he snorts.

"I have....been...searching for....that."

He pauses, fathomless dark gaze searching her own to assure himself she has been fooled as a grin works its way readily onto his features, evidently satisfied with his game, regardless as to whether or not his companion has actually been fooled. Long strides see the bare-footed boy cross the room abruptly, stepping over the evidence of his earlier car game to reach for the dresser, pulling open the draw to peer inside. He moves abruptly to grasp a veritable armful of clothing, handing the collection of shirts, jeans and bras to Birdie in a hurry.

"Get dressed....we have to.....go to the boat and Birdie needs....all the clothes."

That he has evidently decided they are going somewhere is clear, the man moving to reach back into the drawers Birdie keeps for herself before pulling another armful of clothing out and handing it towards her.

"Now you....are packed!"

That he evidently does not understand 'packed' remains to be seen, the boy having done little more than hand her armfuls of her own clothing before scampering hurriedly towards the door in evidently overzealous excitement.

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