"Damnit." He muttered as he strained against the dresser that he had managed to get the ridges along his arms stuck in. The jagged edges usually didn't cause issues in his own apartment as he had situated it to accommodate for the extra growths, though the same could not be said for yours. He'd broken away from Dr. Clarke after enough injections and experimentations to last a lifetime and he'd stumbled to your apartment for a place to lay low. He usually wasn't that big of an issue, he kept to, cleaned for and cooked for himself, but the scratches and dents he kept leaving in your furniture from either the spiked growths along his back, the scaling that peaked along his jaws, the claws that perched at the tips of his fingers or the thick tail that hit just about anything he walked past certainly made keeping a tidy house difficult. "Shit." He cursed himself out a few more times as he dove for a vase that he'd knocked over, the spikes along his forearm dragged and carved out ugly scratches in your wooden flooring as he hit the ground with a thud. He stumbled to his legs which were twisted and bent back at an angle that gave them a more digitigrade style. He huffed as he set the vase back up on the dresser, the short horns that twisted up from his head caught on the curtains. He whined at himself and fought his head free with a huff and turned on his heels just as you waltzed into your living room to see the ordeal.