It is very near the third time he has been yelled at tonight, perhaps the fifth...maybe the seventh, his inability to count, let alone read or write sees the shaggy-haired deviant left staring blankly at a very irate vampire businessman he was supposed to be attending to. His inability however, to get a single order right has seen the vampire become rather hostile in these remaining moments, Tobias' fractured mind struggling desperately to understand what the man wants. He speaks to fast, his accent blurring his words, the boys mind unable to perceive what he is being instructed to do- resulting in little more then a build up of frustration as animal instinct begins to seep once more into his lean, tall frame. He is intensely uncomfortable within the walls of Syn, the sounds, the lights, the masses of bodies brushing against his human form, the boy loathing to be touched in his human skin, senses utterly overwhelmed again and again each night until sweat begins to run down the back of his neck and against his forehead, fingers clenched at his sides into veritable fists from the effort it takes to retain this form and not fall upon this ridiculous man. For a moment those dark chocolate eyes drift away from his...guest, searching for his Alpha amongst the rabble of other patrons, Tetradore busy escorting a vampire woman back to Risque's office, Tobias already having learned he is forbidden to interrupt such things, his nervousness only increased in the moments his companion is out of his sights.

This anxiety's hold upon him however, is short lived, the businessman shouting something else at him, seeing that final straw of sanity begin to waver. It has been days now since he had managed any sort of escape attempt or been allowed outside- those first cracks beginning to show, the already darkly volatile creature rapidly beginning to lean towards the more dangerous side to his nature. It is perhaps only the fear of his 'owner' that sees him hesitate, that sees him turn away from the man rather then set upon him like rabid dog, words hissed beneath his breath as he seeks to melt into the crowd, ignoring the mans shouts, choosing to ignore whatever punishment is sure to come from having abandoned his post. Frustration tugs at every part of himself, his skin itchy and uncomfortable beneath his ridiculous leather-clad outfit, his collar irritating the skin of his neck as he seeks some dark corner...anything to take him away from the living hell he exists within until a sudden flash seems to capture his attention, the lights dimmed further, plunging the bar into a dull gloom as a series of red and white lights flash now, gliding and flying over the gathered crowd on the dance floor. For a moment the WereLeopard is merely left staring, seemingly captivated by these new flying lights, oblivious, it would seem, to the nature of light shows at all- one light gliding towards him as he hurriedly stumbles back in an effort to avoid it, pressing further into the darkness- only to be assaulted by another rogue light.

Panic readily begins to seep into his lithe, toned form, lashings of ebony hair falling into his equally wild eyes as he lunges frantically away from yet another light, evidently of the opinion they may be attempting to assault him, to hurt him in some fashion as the bare-footed deviant scrambles once more, near colliding with an unfortunate bar maid. How he is given to spot Mattheus in these moments cannot be said, wild dark eyes falling upon the vampire boy as he seems to struggle to head for the bar amongst the mass of bodies- clearly oblivious to the deadly light sneaking up behind him, Tobias moving to sprint forward in a sudden rush, launching in the manner only a true predator can be said to achieve- quite clearly attempting to crash tackle the poor Mattheus to the ground and drag him beneath the nearest table the way a leopard drags an antelope. Evidently unaware of why this is not socially acceptable, proceeding to attempt to pin him in place.

"They will...get you.....look...look...they are coming. Don't touch them."

Each word is a struggle, the boy clearly....not all there as he crouches beneath his makeshift den, pointing at the lights as they glide past, one hand reaching out to slap experimentally at one before it is quickly withdrawn, the barest hint of a simper seeming to trace his youthful, handsome features as he turns to regard his newfound companion, dark chocolate eyes watching him from beneath tousled locks of thick ebony hair.

"If you get...hit....you will probably die. You are going to...play with me."

It is really not a question.

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