lol. who am i

he doesn’t break eye contact, waves the bartended over to refill his glass and instead leans back, lifting his chin just so. it’s a vulnerable position, tilted back with his throat all but bared -- or it would be if not for that confidence. “sure, i’m interested. but i’m not sure you could handle me.” 

“you don’t like me.” the fox seems to pout before it “sits” on the countertop and stares back at him in the reflection. “i could actually help you patch up. would that make you feel better about my being here?” the reflection of the creature turns to face stiles. behind him, a few extra tails flicker into sight at the use of magic. “there are better ways to use your magic. i mean healing, yes, but the way you use it isn’t precise. you’re just throwing magic at it until you get enough of the effect you want. you’re not directing it. why not just let me teach you how to do it?” 

i will from now on assume that anybody i interact with is nik unless otherwise stated explicitly to me in ask/im

he lifts a brow, traces the lip of his glass with his forefinger. “well then, pretty boy. are you going to fill me up or what?” he’s perfectly aware of the innuendo and he gives it a moment before he lifts his near empty glass of -- whatever colorful alcoholic cocktail he’d been sipping and swishing the liquid around teasingly.

          “it’s been a very long time since i’ve known peace. i don’t think it’d feel right to me. and -- if it’s a conglomeration of assholes who have already died over there -- well there’s a lot of them who won’t be so happy to see me.”

“sleep is for the weak. i’m not a little bitch.” he’s all gangly limbs wrapped around stiles. “i don’t wanna sleep. i wanna... i wanna -- let’s go... get ice cream.” he leans fully against his brother, presses his face against his throat. “you’re... super comfortable.” 

“or! or consider maybe fight me!” he slips down from the bed in an action that looks more accident than intent and outright throws himself at stiles.

he pads over to stick his face right up against stiles’ arm, looking at the display. he may not be great at deciphering the words, but he can still look at the pictures. “yeah. extra cheese. and those -- uh the ones under the pepperonis. are those the little meat bits?” 

“um... i liked the uh... the little... the tomatoes. sometimes they put extra tomatoes on. i like that. if they have that.” he stretches out and halfway through it he becomes the fox. he’ll have to shift back if he wants to eat, but until then he can take the most comfortable form for himself.