If she had a hand free, at this point Summer would have cuffed Stiles on the back of the head gently. She settles instead for lifting her eyebrows meaningfully at him, and making a mental note to ask him about the mountain ash. Why would it be important to have a /rowan/ barrier in a /vet’s/ clinic?
It does amuse her to watch the way Stiles changes under Scott’s influence — the little flashes of … responsibility seem to be absent, replaced with a higher level of clowning around. Summer untangles herself from Helios and deposits him on the examining table, where he leaves slightly sweaty pawprints and makes another pitiful meow. “No, he’s been behaving pretty normal, except for deciding to go out and /bring me back friends/,” she answers, making an exaggerated face of displeasure at Helios.
Then she winks at Stiles and Scott.
It isn’t even a conscious change Stiles makes—this is the Stiles most people see, given how often he is in Scott’s presence, how rarely pried from the other boy’s side. This is probably how he prefers to be, in the company of someone whom he knows will take up the slack, able to let go of his white-knuckled stranglehold on the thread that moves through his mind, so easily lost or broken, that represents his ability to focus and concentrate. Scott can concentrate for both of them, and Stiles can relax a little. The line of his shoulders changes a little, less sharp-edged, less tense.
“He’s the only cat I’ve ever met that plays fetch, but I have to say I’m used to that kind of thing being with sticks.” Stiles quips from the corner, still grinning toothily. Scott’s expression doesn’t budge from its place between ‘kind and sympathetic’ and ‘incredibly longsuffering’.
Scott has been very careful not to get too close to Helios’ personal space, although he does this with a sort of confidence that implies it’s probably a force of habit at this point. Still, he appears to be addressing the cat when he speaks, filling some kind of form in with sincerely terrible handwriting. “Don’t let him get you down, Helios, he doesn’t have any idea what he’s talking about most of the time anyway.”
Helios flicks an ear at Scott and cranes his neck, sniffing. He does that cat-sniffing thing that curls back his top lip, eyes slightly narrowed, and watches Scott. Summer keeps her hands on him, feeling the faint tremble of his limbs ease away slowly when Scott speaks directly to him. Helios appreciates that kind of courtesy, though he’s still not at ease enough to actually relax.
“Is that what you call it?” Summer says to Stiles, grinning. “You didn’t seem to mind being fetched. As I recall, he suckered you in quite handily. Something about ‘I’m just going to sit here and pet your cat,’ wasn’t it?” She crouches a little, to look into Helios’ blue eyes, laughing. “And fetching you appears to have brought me Scott too.”