[ Foul temper, fangs poking his bottom lip. ]

[ He stood in silence, leaning on the balcony of his treetop crib, a disinterested look on his face. He didn't exactly care for the appearance of the sky, he just needed a break from his games before he got too heated. Shifting the crowbar in his grip he'd instinctively grabbed on his way out, he tapped it against the woven, thick branches that made a barrier between him and a plunge to the forest floor hundreds of feet away. He was mindful to not put too much of his weight on the branches. They'd hold him easily, but that innate fear of 'what if' still drove him to be cautious. ]

"Atleast there aren't any damn mosquitoes up here." He muttered to himself, crowbar making a dull thump against the sturdy living wood beneath his feet.