The thing was, Stiles totally didn't care. Where he was from, things basically boiled down to this: either you were part of the McCall Pack and their associates, you were against them, or you didn't fucking matter. So no, objectively, Stiles totally didn't care.
But he kind of did.
Not, like, because he cared about Sam. But because his survival in this place depended on everyone else. Even and including Sam. And a drunk guy couldn't contribute much to his survival. So yeah, in a way, Stiles kind of cared.
He hung around his door waiting, until the knock on his door jarred him out of his thoughts. Which included holy shit where's my monster book and oh my god, I totally managed to pawn Isaac off on Anna.
Once he had the door opened, he waved his hand at Sam to usher the older man in. "Hey, Sam," he said. "Come on in."