It had not occurred to the shaggy haired Deviant that Samantha may not have desired to kill those she feared, his mind lacking any ability to understand this distinction between her desire to protect herself and a desire to harm another. His own existence, after all, so often fixated on simply being stronger then those whom existed around him and as such his fractured mind fails so entirely to understand the emotional struggle that exists within the Fae woman as he offers her the nail gun. The manner in which she clings only tighter to her toy is hardly missed, Tobias moving to pull the gun away once more, firing it rapidly at the wooden walls of his room before turning to face the girl with a delighted grin- holding it towards her again. How he has come to own such a toy remains entirely to be seen, the deviant boy decidedly more cunning then most surely give him credit for. Indeed how much the young man truly understands is an entirely debatable thing. He is a creature of habit, if nothing else, that which he learns entirely taken from those around him and yet, by this same token he is so entirely capable of learning just how to get what he wants from those around him. The boy decidedly manipulative when he should choose to be, his mind so readily learning how best to have others do just as he desires and as such, how much he truly understands and how much he pretends not to is surely questionable. That Samantha did not want to kill the fairy however, sees his features contort into a ready frown, a huff forced from his lips as dark eyes linger upon her beneath that shaggy mop of black hair.

"Not kill?"

His head tilts ever so slightly, as if attempting to assure himself he has understood her words before the bare-footed creature pivots in place, moving to place the gun back beneath the floorboards and within his veritable treasure trove of collections before proceeding to pilfer yet another item from within. He returns mere moments later with a rather small, velvet bag of sorts tied neatly with ribbon, long fingers holding this out for the woman to take instead- dropping the little pouch into her hand. He waits only so long as it takes the woman to open it, lips pulled into a lopsided grin as he does before he hands move to clap almost excitedly together in a distinctly child-like fashion all the same.

"Hurt but....not kill."

He proclaims rather proudly, gesturing to what is very clearly a bag of marbles. What the boy seems to believe the girl can do with marbles surely remains to be seen, the bag of round, solid, glass balls so seemingly entirely harmless and yet the boy holds evident delight in such things as he regards her now. His attention however, is a terribly fleeting thing, the boy seemingly distracted once more as one hand moves abruptly to seize Samantha's own, pulling the unfortunate girl further into his room before rather unceremoniously pushing her onto the bed, marbles and Charles still within her arms.

"We will...play a game."

It is clearly not a question. Samantha evidently not being afforded with a choice in this matter as the boy scampers now towards his own wardrobe, flinging it open with notable flair as all manner of objects come tumbling out and onto the floor, the boy grasping an armful of toys before proceeding to tip them out and onto the Fae girls lap. It is rare indeed he is given to find someone new, rarer still to have them so entirely to himself without Tetra or Birdie seeking to take them from him. His ever volatile moods surely evident here and now as he seems to waver between playful and manic. One hand reaches forward, plucking a toy car from the pile, the other moving to select what is clearly a dragon.

"Which....one does....Sam-an-tha...want? Car or.....angry snake?"

A dragon, clearly, is an angry snake.

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