“I just think so fast the words come out sideways, I want to get them all out before I lose them or someone talks over me. Plus,” she gestures with one hand, “I kind of think in concepts, so getting the words around what I’m seeing is hard. I kind of wish I was a telepath, it would be so much easier.” She settles back in the seat, watching the world slide by outside the window. The last time she’d been occupied with Helios, but this time she could pay attention to Stiles, to his driving and car and all. It smelled … like Stiles, actually; a little like the outdoors and mostly faintly like his aftershave.
“I think everybody thinks in concepts,” Stiles offers, his mouth pursing thoughtfully. The drive to the preserve seems like something he’s done thousands of times lately, requiring very little in the way of active engagement when it comes to his brain. He can drive on autopilot even in the dusk and get them there safely. “As for being a telepath—nah, I don’t think I’d be down. For a lot of reasons, but the first of which being I’m not sure really anyone should be trusting me with that kind of ethical burden. Unwise. Plus my head’s crowded enough as it is, I can’t even organize my thoughts, screw trying to do it for somebody else.”
Summer laments, “If everybody thinks in concepts, why are there so many stupid people who can’t keep up with me? Even when I manage to get words around them, simple words, people don’t /get/ me. It’s enough to make a girl become a hermit. What’s the point of /knowing/ so much, so many words, if I’m just reduced to using the simple ones, the broad brushstrokes, just so people understand me?” She heaves a sigh, and leans her head against the window.