twenty-seven ♢ video

[versusnurture]

[The video cuts on with Abigail ever-so-dubiously holding the camera, selfie-style. A wave. Hello, Barge, someone's here with bad news.]

So, um. I feel like we should really have a pre-formatted broadcast about this ready, a kind of fill-in-the-blanks-here style thing, but, well . . .

[She pans the camera back, revealing that she's in the clinic, and directs it towards Scott. Who is asleep halfway out of a kennel, his head resting against the bars. He's drooling a little. Some cute puppy snores are happening, too.]

I need help getting Scott to the infirmary. Or, you know, wherever you people want him.

Comments

[voluntaryapnea]

[It doesn't take him long to make it to the clinic. He doesn't come here a lot, but he's visited Scott a handful of times. In some ways it's too much a reminder of Deaton's clinic back home, and he's not ready to think about that. He moves over to the kennel -- which, really? -- and sighs softly, resting a hand on his best friend's back. Sure enough, he doesn't move. Stiles has gotten stronger since he got here, but he's still not sure he'll be able to carry Scott back to his room without the assistance that Kira and Allison offered.

Pathetic. Then again, they have supernatural strength on their side. He glances over at Abigail.]

I'd ask if he crawled in the kennel on his own or not, but I'm not sure I wanna know.

[versusnurture]

Excuse me?

[She gives him a deeply offended look.]

He was cleaning it out and just - just fell asleep halfway through.

[It sounds sincere and genuine, but, well, that's kind of her schtick. It's a little bit of a girl who cried not-wolf situation. In this case, she honestly did not put him in the kennel, but she also did videotape him in the kennel, so. If it's not one thing it's the other.]

[Still. Rude.]

[voluntaryapnea]

[He's gonna have to have a talk to Scott about the irony of him crawling into a dog kennel to clean it out and then passing out while he's inside. As soon as he wakes up, Stiles is going to tease the hell out of him. The humor of the thought is fleeting, because his stomach is a knot of tightly wound nerves.]

Hey, it was just a question. [He shrugs, not really sounding all that apologetic. He hadn't meant it to be rude.]