This is a familiar conversation. Stiles’ inability to pay attention is legendary. “What are you thinking about this minute?” she specifies. Whatever it is, it’s a little more serious than when his mind usually wanders off. She perches on the end of the bed, beside his head, and looks down at him on the floor.
Stiles isn’t surprised that he can’t pay attention, it’s practically common at this point in time. “Thinking about this conversation we’re having,” he says in reply, smiling a little bit as he lays in his position, watching her from where he is in that given moment.
She nudges him with a foot. “Don’t do that! You know what I meant. And the minute before that?” She’s looking at him upsidedown, matching his smile, until something twists in her middle and she looks away, out the window.
