Re: [Beacon Hills Hospital]
"I'd love to be insulted for my own sex but... um, yeah, we have bad taste in girls. It's true," Stiles said, snidely, going to extreme measures to think from thinking too hard about sex, focusing intently on the television screen. The current commercial was for an action movie, and he was grateful. Stuff blowing up in fire and death. Perfect."It means the little disc in their eye," Stiles said impatiently, scowling. "Okay? Not everything needs to be in Latin."
His brown eyes flicked back to hers. "Everybody doesn't know everything," he said, suddenly intense. "I'm not pretending." And it was true. Stiles never pretended. He didn't pretend to be anything he wasn't, and he never pretended he didn't want something when he did. There was the silly joking posing, but it wasn't lying, not in earnest.
Stiles rubbed his face again. He was sleepy, which was unbelievable, since Lydia Martin was sitting in a bed with him, talking about sex. He blinked a few times to clear his vision.
"Talk about what. The basement?" Stiles took a shaky breath and looked at the television again. He reached out for her hand again. "Whoever stuck me there? I mean... I didn't even wake up. How does that work?"