He dislikes seeing her this way- even if he cannot fully comprehend her emotional turmoil with his otherwise fractured mind. He understands simply that she is not behaving in a manner he has come to expect and for a being such as Tobias, one far more given to animalistic prediction then human adaptation such a thing is wholly unacceptable to him. She blames him, perhaps, for much of her pain in this regard and yet how can he be blamed for what he does not, will not and can not understand? He has not changed- she has and his mind revolts against this. He is simply not as others are, he does not think they way they do- had never truly considered that each time she fought beside him in the ring that she too desired some word of praise from him. He does not fathom praise, does not construct it effectively in his mind, perhaps his own lack of such a thing within his life has resulted in an inability to offer it to others even despite the manner in which he himself should so seek to desire it from Tetradore with a near desperation. His delight in every victory however, is surely clear enough, the manner in which he so proudly claims each win is theirs perhaps misunderstood by the woman for its lack of obviousness. For surely he is not an obvious creature. Tonight however, it is far too late for such things. He may never praise her, never reward her, never tell her of his feelings- if they exist as so many believe they do not, so many having deemed him wholly incapable of love let alone even the more basal emotions that exist before it. His world is black and white- there is truly little grey and yet with each passing day the woman before him seems determined to inject it with colour. Even if only one drop at a time. His mind surely incapable of anything more.

Maybe she will never understand him. Not truly. Perhaps that is the tragedy of it all. Perhaps she will forever seek what he simply cannot give and yet she surely deserves better then that. Then again perhaps it is merely so that she alone, save for Tetradore and even Nadya- to an extent, is capable of seeing everything he may well have been- may still be, if only guided in the right direction, the woman before him in possession of a determination unlike any other, a desire to better him- for her. Surely any other man might appreciate a woman so unlike any other and yet it is not for any of these traits the shaggy haired deviant finds pleasure in her company. He simply likes her- for her. Just her. Her inability of late, to be herself, resulting in his frustration and ineptitude at attempting to understand this woman whom is not the one he had known and desired. It is animalistic to an extent perhaps, the leopard attracted entirely to another animal, a female animal he perceives as powerful- drawn to her because of what she represents and who she is and yet...surely there is more. He dislikes to be touched, is irritable if not violent towards those, especially women, whom enter his space without permission. Yet from the beginning he had tolerated her, allowed her, permitted her as no other. He does not understand her emotions in this just as she, perhaps, is frustrated by his inability to understand in turn. A vicious cycle with no release.

His assurance that he does not see her as weak seems to settle her, her body language...relaxing, though the taut hold to her form does not go unnoticed, her agitated anxiety feeding into his own as he continues to shift in discomfort. He cannot stand shouting, yelling, arguments outside of a physical sense. His mind loaths the screeching words he cannot perceive and the swift manner they usually flow within. He desires to move away from the shouting, even if he had started it, watching her warily all the same with a decidedly.....insecure stance. He has not seen her like this before, her behaviour is new information to him, information he desperately seeks to process. She is a submissive creature to an extent, his own more dominant nature finding pleasure in her willingness to follow his commands. Perhaps he is not as capable as others in this area and yet.....perhaps he is more so. The boy far more capable of leadership then he would appear and yet...this shift in the woman's nature has destabilized him all the same, his attempts to explain that he and Nadya had not been together when he and Birdie had been perhaps to...confusing for the woman, her fetures seeming to indicate as much as another hiss slides between his teeth and his arms fold across his chest in belligerent frustration.

He is out of his depth, well and truly so, seeming to waver between domination and yield as if he walks upon the delicate precipice of both- or some outrageous explosion of frustrated anger at the entire situation. He desires the return of the woman he knows. This is all. Yet he does not have the words for such a request, her own words puzzling him all the more until an apology or sorts is slipped free of his lips, a hesitating, muttered thing that is offered with wary discord all the same for fear that she too may suddenly lunge towards him as Tetradore had at the offering of such words. The man simply having learned to believe that is the result of an apology as he turns away from her all the same, each muscle taut and coiled as his mind seems to give in entirely, faltering, slipping, fading until there is very little left save for that desperate and final grasp on whatever sense of sanity remains inside of him- offering her the barest, fleeting moment with what appears to be another being entirely. Another side of himself so rarely seen, one capable of appearing only in the moments the deviant boy is pushed to his very limits. Her grasp on his hand sees his head incline towards her, if only briefly, one dark eye, seeming so much more golden in that moment, meeting her own in...surprise perhaps, that her hand gripping his own is all that has resulted- though he flinches all the same, it is a learned response, his shoulders hunching slightly to protect his neck from her- until both her hands reach up to take hold of his face. Her gaze, for once, just once, meeting the eyes of the man he should have been as opposed to the one he was, fingers pushing aside those tousled dark locks. He lets her, for now, that gold still lingering within his gaze as she speaks, answering his question though how much of him understands what he has asked is debatable, let alone what she has answered, a simper of sorts tracing his lips as he turns more fully to face her, one hand reaching up to wind around a single curl- seeming to delight in this action all the same.

"I know a secret."

His words remain smooth, clear, that deep, beautiful liquid baritone voice sliding between his lips in response to her declaration of love. He sighs a moment, softly, blinking almost rapidly now as if attempting to keep back something (or someone) else though he seems to find focus again, gold flecked dark eyes finding her own as his voice drops to very near a whisper for her alone to hear, spoken with an almost impish grin.

"We'll marry you one day. We promise."

His lips seize her own quite readily now in a stolen kiss, silencing any response she may well have had to this....rather sudden declaration before almost abruptly pulling away with a look of utter confusion, entirely dark eyes flicking about rapidly as if he cannot understand where he is or how he had come to be there. Eyes glancing down at her hands in his and their close proximity. He does not remember, it would seem- anything that has just occurred, her apology seeing those dark eyes flicker down to her own once more.

"I do.....not understand? Love is like.....like?"

His head tilts, attempting to understand now as she speaks again, the man seeming to have calmed all the same, content in her presence and her tentative touch as she apologises though how much of even that he understands remains to be seen.

"Trying...yes."

He repeats the words, though to what depth of knowledge that achieves cannot be said, the man still struggling to recover from his own moments of insanity before he seems to suddenly and startlingly revert entirely- his more general (bossy) demeanour returning as if the entire matter is solved.

"I want....dinner now."

It is a blessing to some extent perhaps, that for all the injustice the boy has suffered, for all and who he is- he is so very willing to forgive and forget. Dinner his apparent focus now, though this matter of 'love' it would seem, needs further addressing.

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