Summer swallows hard when he acknowledges that she’s not projecting, even when she’s trying to. It doesn’t help; her throat tightens and her eyes burn, and the next blink sends hot drops rolling down her cheeks. She keeps her face turned away from him, so maybe he won’t see, but her voice is high when she speaks.
“Why do you want to?” At least, if she’s shielded enough to keep herself from projecting deliberately, she should be able to keep herself from projecting accidentally. Assuming she doesn’t lose them again.
There’s a thick swallow that comes from her and Stiles concentrates, as if he’s able to do it for her. His mind control could only go so far, but he definitely wouldn’t do it without her permission. Especially now that she’s crying, something that gives him remote anxiety. He waves his hands around furiously, leaning closer to her, “No, no, no, don’t do that!”
He sighs in a shaky manner, not upset, but just frustrated that he can’t find a solution. He wets his lips again, pursing them right afterward in thought. “Hell if I know. I hardly know anything about your powers. Do you, like, want to talk to someone in authority about it? And by authority, I mean the damn principal.”
“No, nononono, please don’t talk to anyone — it’s bad enough that Ms Morrell saw I don’t need anyone else — please.” She tries hard to swallow back the tears, but it’s hard: this is one of her biggest fears coming true, and she doesn’t know what to do about it. “I told my parents I had it under control. If they find out I lied … “
He’s /right there/, and she shrinks in on herself just a little, so as not touch him. “You didn’t answer,” she points out, trying to deflect the topic. “Why do you want to?”
