[ Up close, Derek can count maybe twenty, twenty-five spots across his entire face. It's strangely fascinating, and he wants to trace them all out with his fingertips, count them to see just how many there are there. He has a few dipping down on his neck and he thinks he spots one on his hand as he jitters around, but he's just trying to take in all of him as he comes closer. ] Sure, Stiles. If you say so.
[ He knows what a stile is, and has to wonder what would elicit this nickname. Something bad, maybe. But he just snorts and ducks his head a little, even as suddenly he has fingers curled in the front of his jacket and someone in his immediate space. He doesn't bristle, though, so he figures that's a good sign. This is good so far. ] Could've been paired up with a Bob.
[ Tone dry, he brings his hands up with a brief second of hesitation, fingertips brushing across the plaid of Stiles' elbows. His touch lingers, before sliding forward and down, setting at his waist as he brings his eyes back up to look at him from under his brow. ]
no subject
[ He knows what a stile is, and has to wonder what would elicit this nickname. Something bad, maybe. But he just snorts and ducks his head a little, even as suddenly he has fingers curled in the front of his jacket and someone in his immediate space. He doesn't bristle, though, so he figures that's a good sign. This is good so far. ] Could've been paired up with a Bob.
[ Tone dry, he brings his hands up with a brief second of hesitation, fingertips brushing across the plaid of Stiles' elbows. His touch lingers, before sliding forward and down, setting at his waist as he brings his eyes back up to look at him from under his brow. ]