He’s blurting out agreement, excuses, names, and information in a steady stream she can hardly keep up with, mostly because her mind is going in at least two different directions at the moment: lacrosse team and animal clinic. It takes a second before she can match the name to the face — the dark, Latino-looking boy in the clinic, the one who has an inexplicable edge of wildness to her other senses.
“Seems like that would be determined when the new season starts,” she ventures. Helios has ignored Stiles’ assertion of being a dog person, and is catfully attempting to turn him into a cat lover, purring hard enough to vibrate his guard hairs and whiskers and occasionally licking the petting hand.
“Coach Finstock isn’t exactly the, uh…most … objective. I’m pretty sure Scott’s going to at least be Captain.” Stiles smiles briefly, mostly at the cat that’s trying to convince him that he likes cats. “I mean, it doesn’t bother me too much, mostly my function is to sit on the bench and tell Coach about the key players of the other team. I’ve accepted it, it’s a comfortable lot in life, mostly.”
“You think you’re going to stay benched after /that/ game?” Summer is surprised — what kind of coach would bench a player with that kind of potential? She also isn’t sure she /believes/ him. It doesn’t really sound like he’s okay with just being the information pipeline; it sounds more like it’s been that way for so long he doesn’t believe it will change, so he tells himself he’s okay with it.
“Maybe you just need to practise for a while before the new season starts, and show him how good you really are.” She nods toward his arms, with their clear, streamlined musculature. “You’re already built for it, obviously.”