His single and only shopping experience with Nadya so far had been limited near entirely to the woman having forced him into an effort he had neither been comfortable nor capable of moving within, the memory of the only time the creature had ever worn shoes having failed to evaporate from his thoughts as so many things often do- eyes narrowed now in wariness at the thought such a thing may be forced upon him again, that same stubborn nature rapidly beginning to take hold behind the amber gold of those leopard eyes. His paws pause upon the earth now, motion entirely halted, the boy seemingly prepared to argue with her now (perhaps good practice for her upcoming parenthood) as that stubborn hold seems to flicker within his gaze and ears prick forward to capture the words she offers. Her assurance that he does not have to wear anything seems to do little to appease him, discontent clear within his spotted frame as a rumbling growl seems to rest within his chest, tail flicking in displeasure before the cat moves to nuzzle against him, brushing the length of her frame against his chest- seeming to brush the points and edges from his agitation. Her hormones, perhaps, in conjunction with his own instincts responsible for the more appealing manner in which he responds once more, seeming to settle now with such a touch- this trick of affection one often employed by Birdie in her efforts to calm him in those moments in which he becomes overwhelmed- a trick he is yet to truly discover.

This notion of presents sees that spotted head tilt, her use of the words perhaps causing this momentary confusion. Presents were for Christmas. Christmas is for snow and trees and knitted hats. It is no longer Christmas and thus there can be no more presents- the boy firmly of the belief that wrapped gifts were only for this single day of the year as he regards her with an entirely renewed suspicion. He has become...suspect of Nadya perhaps, ever since she had assured him the game they played beneath the water fall was allowed- only to find it had placed Tetradore within such a rage Tobias had been very near outcast from his most beloved companion's existence. That Nadya may well be lying to him once more and thus ruining his chances with this Sandy Claws she had spoken to him about before, his mind somehow having warped Santa Claus into a far more cat themed entity that was better suited to his liking. Even so he has merely come to understand that this bad behaviour Nadya so often seems to believe he displays will so incline the Sandy Claws Cat to no longer bring him gifts upon Christmas and as such he is unwilling to give gifts to the kittens outside of Christmas...for surely this is rule breaking.

What is wrong...with naked?

Naked is perhaps the very least of his concerns, the boy seeming to consider this for a moment longer before moving to follow after the panther all the same, his desires to see these toys perhaps outweighing his fear of reprisal by the Sandy Clawed present bringer as he trails after the woman and towards the small spattering of west side shops. Nadya's transition and swat at his tail does little to encourage the man to leave behind his own Leopard skin, vastly seeming to prefer his animal form for the day as the woman moves to pull on her clothes- Tobias merely following behind her once more before she sees fit to stop him again. For half a moment the golden-eyed cat's attention lingers upon the store and the coloured objects within it, this notion of toys seeming to ensnare her attention before Nadya's fingers seem to result in a reluctant shift, Tobias having managed to shift entirely clothed- a skill he has learned from Birdie no less and yet one he rarely chooses to utilise- huffing in brief displeasure before the allure of the store seems to seize his attention once more- the young man striding readily inside.

The clothing and furniture within seems entirely ignored by the shaggy haired deviant- lashings of black locks falling into those fathomless dark eyes as he proceeds to lift a rather small pair of socks, muttering beneath his breath before tossing them aside, moving almost instantly towards the vast array of toys. That such objects are designed for infants remains entirely to be seen, the man seemingly besotted with the assortment before him, fingers reaching readily for a rubber duck, the squeaking sound causing a crooked grin to trace his lips before those dark eyes rest upon a brightly coloured cube. It is merely chance that his fingers move to brush against the trigger, the jack-in-the-box exploding from within his box, resulting in a sudden, high-pitched yelp from Tobias, on clawed hand slicing out to send the toy flying across the store with a defiant hiss.

"Fucking bastard."

Well- at least they have the attention of the entire store, one mother hurriedly covering her young child's ears as Tobias continues to eye the slain toy with disdain.

"I do not....like that....toy."

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