The momentary wariness that accentuates the woman's features as he reaches for her hands sees the deviant pause, if only momentarily, his more animalistic instincts making him entirely aware of her nervousness in these moments, the growl within her throat seeing those dark eyes shift rapidly to her own as if assessing the true.....threat behind her warning, as if seeking to see whether or not the growl she offers possess any really...spine behind it, or if she merely warns, the man continuing to do as he pleases, his own rumbling growl caught within his throat as he does so- content to warn her right back that he will hardly tolerate being bitten. He does not understand perhaps, the fears and insecurities that touch brings her, unable to perhaps perceive so many of his own aversion are borne so very entirely from thoughts much the same. He refuses touch from those he does not know, loathes to even brush against strangers, mind simply unable to tolerate such contact from those around him, his mind so much as her own in this, having learned so readily that the hands of others are not always kind and yet he is more willing perhaps, to accept such a thing from those he has deemed acceptable, unable to understand she may not be so willing and yet he continues to do as such- tracing the scars upon her hands, hand patting at her head in momentary acceptance of her win within there game.

The smile such a gesture brings sees his grip soften upon her hand, content to believe she will allow him to continue to trace the lines that seem to so readily fascinate his mind as she stops attempting to pull her arm free, words muttered softly from his lips as he does so, mind so readily engaged within his desire to follow each line and mark upon her flesh. His mind delights in such things, in patterns and lines and all things that repeat, relishing the predictability of such markings though why his mind obsesses upon such things cannot be said. Her fingers move to reach for his own, guiding them gently towards further marks upon her arms, her whispered words seeing his eyes meet her own once more, head tilted slightly as some form of understanding seems to reach him.

"Pack?"

He simply repeats the words, fingers tracing the lines once more with a gentleness for which he is so often unknown.

"Pack.....hurt Birdie?"

He understands scars, knows well how they are made, is capable of connecting such things within his mind as he waits for some sort of assurance before those dark eyes seem to shift slightly, a flash of Leopard gold glowing within their depths as he continues to regard her.

"Where is....Birdie's...pack?"

Why he wants to know their location remains to be seen, eyes intent upon her own now as he releases her hand, seemingly having lost interest within this game once more, waiting for some form of answer before it is he moves to do as asked, answering the question he has been posed with the honesty in which he is often given to answer such things, unable to understand the reaction he is presented with. Nadya had instructed him not to speak to Tetra about the sex game, no such instructions had been given in regards to Birdie and as such the boy is assured he has done no wrong, merely answering the question she has asked. He cannot understand the norms of society within this regard, does not perceive any fault in his willingness to speak of the things he does with Nadya, for such things he assumes, are common, natural and understood. Why Birdie would hold any sense of disappointment born from her own feelings is entirely lost upon him just as so many of the delicate pieces of relationships are. He sees no shame in what he does, fails to understand the hurt such simple words are caused, unable entirely to fully perceive the depths of connection and commitment that such an act represents. His mind is simple perhaps, such activities engaged in with Nadya because he likes her, enjoys her company, likes the release it provides and the closeness that ensures. She is pack and as such he is assured such things must be entirely correct to partaking in, having learned no other way. Birdie's words however seem to near mirror, Nadya's own in this moment, assuring him once more that it is a thing for mates confusion touching his features as he seems to consider such things before simply shaking his head.

"Naddy is....not mate."

He simply assures her of this, just as Nadya had once assured him, head sill held upon it's curious tilt as she asks if sex is somehow required within the pack.

"No. You only...play the....sex game when...you are....angry at...each other. Naddy says we...cannot play it...anymore."

That his experiences within such an activity are clearly misconceived are surely evident now, the boy quite content to believe that sex is something of an activity to be done by way of...apology to someone, an act to be carried out instead of a physical fight although indeed his repeated engagements with Nadya have been very near such a thing, neither content to be gentle with the other. The man assured that this is how sex, all sex, surely occurs. He shifts then, moving to lay his head within her lap before demanding she return to petting him in whatever manner he decides it should be done, choosing to ignore the sadness that seems to taint her features as he waits for her to trace her fingers along his palms once more, claws readily sliding forward in delighted pleasure once more.

"My pack...is not....like that. Food is...for everyone- but Tetra first. Birdie will...get to eat with us...too."

He nods, further determined to assure her of this, the food chain a rather critical park of pack life, or so Tobias is assured, content to rest entirely against her now in satisfaction as she speaks a final time, head shaking as she asks about touch.

"I do not...like to be touched....only pack...can touch....only the people.....that...Tobi likes. I...like you."

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