No registering. No indicators. He kept a mental list of the words and added another tick every time Tyson spoke. As Tyson spoke, he also considered what he was saying. He wasn't being merely a passive listener. He was trying to think of solutions.

"Yeah," Elliott said. "Always being on guard has to be hard. I'm betting you have heightened senses. You probably run faster and can see better in darkness. And there are probably other things that are similar to wolves, too. Am I right, or am I making an ass of me and you by assuming too much?" That difficulty talking was obvious too, but bringing that up would just be rude, and they were focusing on the more difficult things here right now.

How does one master one's self? There are many philosophies that delve into that. There are also many martial arts disciplines. Elliott, if nothing else, was a martial arts junkie. Maybe there was something there that Tyson could use?

Tyson nodded to Elliott's guesses, he supposed his abilities probably ran the line of wolf abilities. He hadn't really looked into it, mostly because he couldn't read a book or type on a keyboard. Not without destroying it. "Hrrrrr, eeeverrrythiiing smeeeeeellls strrrrrrrroonng, eeeeverrrrrrythiings toooo loooouud." he said, he was trying to acclimate to that, but it would be a while before he would be able to block out everything that assaulted his senses all the time.

"Rrrrrrr keeeeep waaantiiiing thiiiinggs, rrrrrrraw meeeat, huuuuunnnt, fiiiigggghht, deeeefeeeennd terrrrrrritorrrrrrry, doooon't waaant tooo, buuuttt keeeps haappeeeniing," he continued, recalling different failures he had on keeping himself under control. It was like losing his identity to whatever animal was in him now, like bit by bit it was changing his preferences, changing who he was, it was terrifying. It was like his mind wasn't his own anymore. It terrified him to think that he may wake up one day and he could just be gone, and a complete animal would be left in his place. He had nightmares about that, which blended with the guilt he felt for attacking people, to where he saw himself as a mindless monster massacring people.

Everything smells. Elliott's mouth turned off the barest fraction of an inch in one corner at the comment. He stifled an urge to tell Tyson that this is, in fact, New York, and that everything smells. Too loud? That, too. Instead, he merely nodded. He got it. Those things made 1200% sense to him.

After everything Tyson said, Elliott started off his response with "Steak tartare. Medium Rare steak. Sushi. Yookhwe. That's Korean. Parisa and Koi Soi. Carne Apache and Beef Carpaccio. Gyu tataki, toriwasa, and basashi. A good ceviche is hard to find, but if I find a good place, I'll let you know." He paused for a good five seconds after ticking those off on both hands, and then explained. "I had a friend back in the last city I lived in. He was really into eating things raw. That's only a portion of the list of things he introduced me to. He was like that guy for Forrest Gump, but with raw meats. Seriously."

He couldn't do a thing about Tyson's desire for hunting and fighting and pissing on fire hydrants (Sorry, Tyson! That's where territory defending went to for Elliott's brain!), but Tyson could darn well eat raw meat if he wanted to. Prepared properly, it was actually really delicious, too!

"For everything else..." He concluded thoughtfully. "Have you tried meditation?"

Tyson listened as Elliott listed raw, or almost raw meat dishes. Most of it sounded expensive, or at the very least something he would need to go to a restaurant to get. Aside from this cafe which was both mutant friendly and able to conjure up food, how would he get that? Though he did get the point Elliot was trying to make, there were options for raw meat, the trouble was he couldn't even wait long enough to properly prepare anything before his stupid wold brain took over. Honestly though, out of all the problems he had, eating raw meat was probably the tamest one, at least until it got to the taking out chunks of people, which went into hunting and fighting territory part of his issues.

The suggestion about meditation Tyson took with a grain of salt, honestly if he tried sitting cross legged he would probably just get antsy with his wolf brain wanting constant motion. Not only that, but the thought of inner reflection wasn't something he looked forward too. The reality of his situation gave him nightmares already, and sitting with nothing else to think of but that and his actions sounded more like torture then anything else. "Hrrrrr, toooo muuuuccchhh baaad thiiiings, doooonn'tt hrrrr waaaaaant toooo thiiiinnnk abbbooouut thheeemm," he said, careful not to go into detail about what those bad thing were. His transformation at the had of his father, being kept as some sort of monster gaurd dog, mauling people when he lost control, nightmares of labs and rampent slaughter. It was no wonder he was losing it.

"That's the thing with meditation," Elliott replied simply. "You don't have to think."

Sure, inner reflection was one possibility. You could sit and ponder existence like Buddha did, but you could also simply be.

"Meditation can be about quieting your mind. I'm not so much into the self-searching part of meditation. I'm more familiar with meditation in martial arts. Through meditation your awareness, calm, and focus will increase. All important things in fighting. If you're always tense, out of fear or whatever, you run out of energy. Gotta master your calm. Your energy. Your qi, dude." Ki. Mana. Chi. Whatever you want to call it, it boils down to the same fundamental idea in various martial arts disciplines and religions. Energy. "Learning to calm the emotional side of your body can be useful. I'm not telling you it'll help you for sure, or that you need to go out and do it today, but think about it. It might. The way I see it, learning to calm yourself down through breathing exercises can't hurt. It can only help."

If he wanted to explore himself and get into other things, there was always tomorrow. For now, the simple idea of breathing was all Elliott was trying to share. He could go all Yoda and talk about fear. He could go all enlightened and talk about peoples 'ways'. Yin and Yang. Whatever. But no, he'd chosen this. Whatever Tyson did with the suggestion was up to him.

Elliott's explanation of meditation definitely sounded appealing, if anyone needed his mind and emotions quieted and calmed it was him. Unfortunately he wasn't sure how to do it, his mind always seemed to be running on high octane now a days. He wanted to not think about his life spiraling out of control, but putting that into practice was a lot more difficult. If Elliot knew a way to do it, he was all ears. "Hrrrrrr hooooowwww doooo yoooouu dooooo iiiiit? he asked, hoping that Elliott could tell him about how to do these breathing techniques.

Even though they had only just met, Elliott seemed to be a good guy, a person he could trust. Tyson was usually in a vulnerable state of mind due to his issues, but Elliott seemed interested in helping him, and didn't seem to be asking for anything in return. Tyson felt a bit guilty about putting his problems on Elliot's shoulders, as he probably had plenty of his own to deal with. But honestly, he was reaching a point where he needed any help he could get, and even though he would be an inconvenience, he wanted Elliott's help if he was willing.

The 'how do you do it' question was simple in appearance, but complex in application... if you got into the complex topics of how meditation works (or is thought to work), and the various breathing techniques. "To really give you a full understanding," Elliott held his chin, considering the question. "We'd have to go into some basics, and it'd probably take a couple of lessons. If you were interested in theory, that is. If you're not, then it's as simple as explaining a few calming breathing exercises, and that's that."

Maybe it wasn't okay to boil an entire art down to 'this is how you breathe', but... well, that's life. And when you're born, people usually don't even explain that!

"I mean, I'd love to get into the deep metaphysical funky monkey junk that is meditation in a martial arts setting, but-- I'd probably come off as a colossal nerd, so-- do you want the complex answer, or do you want to sit down and just try to breathe? Or maybe we should set aside some time for this, because I'm rambling and apparently, this whole thing is more complex in my mind than I'd initially thought and I need to slow down and shut up." His lips made a thin line across his face as he demonstrated one application of the ancient art of lifting your foot and forcibly jamming it into your own mouth, through the discipline of silence, of course, and not in the literal sense. Cough cough. Word.

A couple of lessons? Okay, Tyson was definitely willing to sit through a few lessons if it would help him get more control over himself. Though he cared little about theory or history, he figured it would probably help to do everything properly, just to make sure he did it right. He didn't want to skip ahead only to have a less effective technique. If he needed the theory to truly grasp the technique, he wanted it. Of course he didn't know exactly what was needed to pull this off, so he would defer to Elliott's experience there. "Hrrrrr Whaaatevvveeerrrrrr yooouu thhhhiiinnkkkk wiiiilll worrrrrrk beeeessst." he said, trusting that Elliott knew what he was doing and what was needed.

He figured he would probably need a number of lessons to get this done right, so Elliot's suggestion of putting aside some time to go through this seemed the logical option for him. Just like school you needed some repetition and instruction to get anything right. "Hrrr wheeeen wooouuld beee a goooood tiiiime?" he asked, wondering what kind of schedule Elliott kept, "Aaand hrrr wheeerrrrrrrrrree?" He doubted they could do this in the cafe, when he imagined breathing exercises, his mind shifted immediately to some sort of yoga studio or something.

Lessons definitely worked best. Probably several. "You live at the mansion, right? I don't imagine you have a cellphone I could call you on to let you know I was coming?" With claws like that, the touch screen would be a wreck in a matter of moments. Big paws would make it hard to punch little keys on a phone keyboard. Did he have a phone? No? Okay, then. "Maybe we can set a day and time, and I can meet you there."

It wasn't opportune. He didn't really want to go to the mansion. The mansion had people like liked to think that they were cops. Cops were not his favorite people. But if he kept his head down, and focused on the one thing, he could probably avoid getting caught.

Even if he was caught, what was he doing that was illegal? Helping someone? And for the rest, you couldn't prove it. Not anything. Not unless you talked to Cafas. He wasn't sure how that entire thing had actually turned out. Guy could still be mad. Who cared?

The mansion was a place he'd been curious about for a while, ever since Sam had mentioned it. He had heard rumors. Lots of mutants. Grand convergence. People with powers. Maybe there'd be a poor schmuck who thought he was a mutant, but was actually an alien? Maybe he'd get to train with some UFC mutant, and make some friends. And at the very least, he could scope it out. Mansions usually had excess.

Tyson had had a cell phone before everything had happened to him, now it was just another casualty of his transformation. Touch screens broke apart in his hands, and even if he managed not to, his claws ruined the screens within moments. Even older style phone ended up snapped apart of full of holes if he dared tried use them. If he ever had an emergency he would be in big trouble, because he couldn't call anyone for help. The only thing he had going for him there was that he would heal from any major injuries. So setting a date and time to meet at the mansion was probably the best, if not the only option he had.

"Hrrr, aaaannnyyy tiiiimmme woouulllld worrrrrrk forrrrr meee," he said, knowing full well he had absolutely nothing to do but lament over his condition in his spare time. He had to risk himself just to break up the monotony of his empty days. He hoped that these lessons of Elliott's would at least improve his control over himself enough to do something normal without being afraid of destroying something in the process. But he had nothing to lose at this point, it was either try something or commit to being little more then an animal. God he hoped this worked.

"Alright then, I'll see about stopping by the mansion soon. Until then, whenever you get nervous or upset, just try this."

He demonstrated a basic calming breathing technique. It wasn't meditation, perhaps, but it would help for a brief demonstration. Belly breathing. He placed one hand just above his belt line, and the other on his chest, right over the breastbone. Then, he opened his mouth and gently sighed. He let his shoulders and other muscles relax as he exhaled. That was one of the biggest problems when one has a panic attack. Their muscles tighten and they can't breathe because they forget to exhale. So breathing in, exhaling gently... pausing... and then breathing in slowly through the nostrils with your mouth closed... helps. The stomach goes out with the inhale, allowing more air in. Pause. Breathe slowly and exhale through the mouth, pulling your belly in. He paused. He continued the demonstration for another ten seconds, just pausing and breathing. Calming. He waited while Tyson took it in, eyes closed. And then he looked at him.

"There. That's one breathing technique some people use for dealing with panic attacks. That can help you, if you start getting stressed." He smiled slightly, and waited to hear what Tyson had to say.

Tyson payed close attention as Elliot demonstrated the 'right' way to breath. It seemed a bit strange to think there was a right way to do something so automatic, but he wasn't complaining. He would bend over backwards if it would help keep him in control. He did his best to mimic Elliott's example, trying to breath in and out through the belly. It felt weird with the shape of his mouth and nose, which were quite differently shaped, but the end result was essentially the same. In, out, in out, in out... He repeated over and over, trying to focus on the exercise. He took a few long breaths trying to make the tension in his shoulders dissipate, but really only made himself a little lightheaded. He had a massive build up of stress, it would probably take a lot of breathing before it all went away.

"Hrrr I'lllll keeeeeep aaatt ittt," he said hopefully, "Doooon't taaaake tooo looong to viiiisiit," he added hoping he would see Elliot soon to help him further. He wasn't sure how long he would be able to hold out if things kept going downhill, and Elliot was the first to offer some possible insight into how to control himself.

"I won't," Elliott replied.

He turned and walked towards the end of the alley, and the city street. He waved a hand over his shoulder as he went. "See you soon."

Tyson had his work cut out for him learning to handle what he had become. Hopefully, he would figure some things out on his own. Elliott wanted to help him, if he could. And soon.

He was doing pretty good, breathing, but perfecting a good meditation technique and achieving mental calm would take time.

(( OOC I will PM you a new thread. Let's call this finished! ))