Well, I'll play by those rules for the teenagers because they're kids.
[She already asked, regarding Boyd, and kind of, regarding Stiles]
It's good to know you're keeping some independence. But really, what I wanted to ask - are all the wolves here kids? I mean, except for you. And that one guy. Peter.
[ that gets a pause, because he doesn't actually know about peter. it's not a name that's come up before, and he wants to ask more, but - now's not the time to dig, at least not with daphne. ]
I don't know. There are a lot of kids, which is - so phenomenally messed up I can't even begin to explain it to you. They're... easily influenced.
[ he's not talking about any young wolves on the ship when he says it, and it almost trips him up for a second, mind wandering before he gets back on track. ]
They think they understand the consequences. Of what they are, of the world it puts them in, but - I don't think they know the half of it.
[ he relaxes quickly when she moves on, although there's a strange tension in the next line that's entirely unrelated. ]
Hey, you're preaching to the choir.
[ because he hates being a wolf, he hates the idea of packs, of anything that takes away his humanity or control. or at least the thinks he does - he's not entirely sure anymore. ]
And thank you.
[ it's sincere. thanks for her offer of help, thanks for what he thinks might be forgiveness after he'd lied to her about what he was. ]
Cub, really? I know I owe you one, but awful pet names are pushing it.
[ he bats her hand lightly away as he says it, but he's smiling. the gesture reminds him of sally, and it's bizarrely comforting given how screwed up the rest of this is. ]
I'll cook. And if you feel the overwhelming urge to lick my finger again, maybe ask first this time.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'm pretty sure Derek doesn't play by those rules. And even if he does, I don't.
no subject
[She already asked, regarding Boyd, and kind of, regarding Stiles]
It's good to know you're keeping some independence. But really, what I wanted to ask - are all the wolves here kids? I mean, except for you. And that one guy. Peter.
no subject
I don't know. There are a lot of kids, which is - so phenomenally messed up I can't even begin to explain it to you. They're... easily influenced.
[ he's not talking about any young wolves on the ship when he says it, and it almost trips him up for a second, mind wandering before he gets back on track. ]
They think they understand the consequences. Of what they are, of the world it puts them in, but - I don't think they know the half of it.
no subject
Wait.
No seriously, wait.
She had thought that they were born but no, no, that's not how it works and she has to rework how she thinks because-]
Did he bite them?
He bit them?
Those kids?
no subject
What? Shit- no. I mean I don't know, I'm not from where they're from, I'm just assuming because that's how it works where I'm from.
[ it's a lie, because he knows perfectly well that they were all bitten, but this doesn't feel like the kind of revelation he should be sharing. ]
no subject
Anyway. If he starts to get all pissy territorial on you, you can come to me, okay?
[She's not sure if she means her room. That would be a deeply personal thing. But to her, anyway.]
If you don't want to be part of a pack, you don't have to be. I don't care how wolves usually work.
no subject
Hey, you're preaching to the choir.
[ because he hates being a wolf, he hates the idea of packs, of anything that takes away his humanity or control. or at least the thinks he does - he's not entirely sure anymore. ]
And thank you.
[ it's sincere. thanks for her offer of help, thanks for what he thinks might be forgiveness after he'd lied to her about what he was. ]
no subject
Come on, cub, lets go grab something to eat.
no subject
[ he bats her hand lightly away as he says it, but he's smiling. the gesture reminds him of sally, and it's bizarrely comforting given how screwed up the rest of this is. ]
I'll cook. And if you feel the overwhelming urge to lick my finger again, maybe ask first this time.