He might buy new things all the time, take shiny things he liked, but he also hoarded the things he wanted to keep. She was a possession of his, therefore his to hold tightly within his grasp, under his care (no matter how childlike). He had just scratched his possession and he was pouting about it. She hadn't seen his reaction the first time he'd backed his car into a brick wall. But Zoe was a breathing girl. He wasn't done yet, he hadn't even begun to seep in and he'd scraped her.
"Zoe...." He whined flopping back on the couch. He touched the spot with a soft graze. If it hadn't been him she'd have been dead he was sure of it.