[ After dry retching the second time, stomach too empty to offer anything except bile, he glances up at the man with watering eyes and nods stiffly – even though he is very obviously not okay. Stiles may have seen some messed up shit in Beacon Hills, including the kills of his ex-girlfriend’s psycho mom, but nothing has prepared him to peel apart an animal bit by fatty bit. The demon overseer even made him manually scoop out the creature’s insides with his own hands. He won’t be surprised if this leads to some kind of Lady Macbeth-esque complex with washing. ]
Sorry, urgh… [ Grimacing, he tries again. ] Sorry about your shoes, dude. Wasn’t aiming for them, promise.
[ Behind him, the demon overseer makes a comment about Stiles having solicited the help of a newcomer, clearly indicating Klaus, and then impatiently beckons the two of them over to the table where the partially processed boar lies waiting. ]
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Sorry, urgh… [ Grimacing, he tries again. ] Sorry about your shoes, dude. Wasn’t aiming for them, promise.
[ Behind him, the demon overseer makes a comment about Stiles having solicited the help of a newcomer, clearly indicating Klaus, and then impatiently beckons the two of them over to the table where the partially processed boar lies waiting. ]