Stiles slammed his laptop shut as he walked over to the widow, cracking it so he could speak to Summer. “H-hey… Uh… Whatcha doing?”
“Just keep talking. Seriously. Just talk to me. You haven’t exactly explained.” Summer dragged herself around until she was propped up against his bed, legs stretched out straight. She wanted to be able to look at him while he talked. “And you owe me an explanation,” she went on, while her legs trembled. “I could’ve taken advantage of you, you know, and I didn’t.”
Stiles gave her a completely unimpressed look at why he apparently owed her an explanation. “Congrats on not being a total asshat, then. Dubious consent at best, Summer,” he pointed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’ll give you part of an explanation because I’m grateful that you got rid of… whatever the hell that was,” he said, taking a breath. “There’s a lot of weird… Supernatural stuff here. I know about a lot of it. That’s all you get.”
She gave him a very flat look. “I am weird supernatural stuff, in case you didn’t notice just now. And I’m — NGH — ” The end of the sentence cut off sharply in another back-bowing spasm. “How dubious can it be if it affected me too?” she finished.