Her command for him to release her is utterly ignored, fractured mind having seized upon her wounded shoulder alone, attention drawn entirely to this focal point. Wounds are a weakness he simply refuses to tolerate. It is the simple law of nature itself, no herd, no pack, no group will wait for the weakest member, the weak simply left behind and as such the man moves to eliminate such a status from Birdie. To be wounded is to be vulnerable, a target for hunters, for other predators and it is animal instinct alone that seizes his mind in this moment as his claws part her flesh, ripping free the object of her pain before tossing it upon the floor. That such a thing is surely beyond painful remains to be seen, the young man seeing no need to offer her any form of relief from his actions, oblivious to the panic within the woman and her embarrassment of so much of herself visible to his gaze though truly he pays little heed to such a thing. His mind is simply to as other men, his thoughts not contained to any true form of sexual desire or need in these moments, such a thing present within the man only when it is given to be initiated in the appropriate manner. He simply....does not think as other men do, sees only Birdie before him, with or without her shirt- it hardly matters to him. He has learned however, to dodge her blows, hurriedly stepping back from her and the swing of her right hand, bristling slightly at this perceived attack before his garbled, stuttered words are flung towards her. She is a woman, female, a creature to be protected and commanded, just as she is to be owned by the men around her. It is not her job to protect or defend, the role of women within his mind shockingly limited perhaps and yet, in truth, he holds little understanding of them beyond that which he has decided for himself. Women are the weaker gender, property, useful for food and sex, holding little value beyond that. They are....girlfriends, to be kept, the favoured among them made into mates, he is sure, Birdie having taught him such a thing.

"I do not need....protecting!"

His own words, perhaps, are more harshly spoken then her's, the gentle, clam tones she rightly sees fit to use having managed perhaps to prevent him from yelling right back at her, agitation slithering within his veins, the already volatile leopard made even more so by her words. It is simply a misunderstanding perhaps, the woman believing one thing, the man evidently utterly convinced of another. He does not need protecting he is sure, he is the boy, the protector, the one whom is supposed to be injured as he has been so many times before and yet, where her actions had been borne of affection, perhaps, his own are simply and entirely borne of a sense of....duty. He does as any male animal does, protects what he believes to be his, raised to stand beside Tetradore as his Second, to protect and guard and serve while Tetra leads, this method of living, of understanding, ingrained within him entirely. Birdie, even if not pack, is something he believes is his own, something to be protected- not something to protect him. That is Tetra's job alone. That Birdie herself may not think as such remains to be seen, the boy unwilling to admit error within his own thinking, mind incapable of this form of understanding and perception. He thinks as he does, his mind painfully difficult to change, so much of this thought borne from instinct and experience alone, his responses and actions learned through repetition- the boy sure of himself in this.

"Birdie is...girl. Birdie is not....made to....protect. Do not do it...again!"

One foot moves to stamp suddenly like a petulant child, quite literally putting his foot down over the matter, or seemingly so, features scowling readily now before surprise seems to linger within his gaze at the words she tosses so casually towards him, clever mind seizing upon the description she offers in these moments- the man suddenly striding forward once more, making no attempt to hide the manner in which he proceeds to...sniff at her- a grin suddenly alighting his features, hands clapping momentarily togethers, his violent attitude seemingly having faded as quickly as it had come.

"Tetra!"

He simply speaks the same with the excited reverence he seems to feel it is due.

"You were...with....Tetra. Tetra is....Alpha and...brother. My brother."

He nods once more, the scent of his own chosen leader lingering upon the girl seeing his head tilt ever slow slightly, dark eyes wary still of her slapping hands as he remains within striking distance, this news of his family surely...shocking to the woman and yet the boy seemingly sees no need to elaborate further, moving to follow the woman down the hallway of her home, eyes lingering suddenly upon the raven tattoo that adorns her flesh, his love of patterns and lines, on anything repetitive seeing his gaze fixate in this moment though he remains within the doorway to her room, seemingly unwilling to risk her slapping at him once more. He simply moves to watch as she wanders from bedroom to bathroom, staying well clear of the sodden towel she attempts to wipe away the blood with, eyes narrowed in wary dislike before she moves to pull a t-shirt over herself, the disappearance of the soaked towel seeing the boys bravery return once more as he rather suddenly moves to scramble atop the bed. He pauses behind her merely a moment before suddenly lifting to his feet, abruptly launching himself upward with delighted glee, her words seemingly falling on deaf ears as he proceeds to bounce up and down rather energetically on her bed. A snicker hisses within his throat, his natural ability to jump engaged as he continues to leap, surely bouncing the poor women about as he bounces in every direction, clearly delighted at this toy before one hand moves to suddenly...tap, Birdie upon the head, driving to have her attention now.

"Jump Birdie."

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