Throughout his life, Stephen has seen his fair share of teeth. They were often barred at him - a patient in pain, an enemy enraged, human, alien, creature… His own, at times, for many the same reasons. If the eyes were the window to the soul, the teeth were the doorway to the mind, betraying emotions that could not be held within those bars of bone. 

Zee’s teeth had yet to be barred to him out of anything but joy and affection. He had not yet seen those fangs revealed in a snarl, nor heard the rumbling of a warning growl slide its way between them. No, and if he had his choice, he never would. The sorcerer would stain his own teeth red with blood, have gore drip thick and clumpy from his own lips as evidence of his desperation, than to allow pristine fangs to bear even a drop. 

It’s a foolish hope, he knows. He’s lived long enough to realize that there will be a time he won’t be able to keep Zee away from the dangers that lurk and threaten them, their city, their planet itself… he doesn’t need Agamotto to tell him that Zee would fight alongside him when the moment came, even if for no other reason than that this world means so much to Stephen.