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Video | UN: mischief

The feed opens with a close up of Stiles's nose at a less than flattering angle, but he quickly pulls it away and gets it so that his face is mostly in the frame. "So, uh, I may have fallen down a rabbit hole of research and not looked up in, uh. Two months. Did I miss anything important?" He grins, with absolutely no remorse at all.

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"You would think so, but in my experience they usually think they can just take whatever they want," Stiles shrugs. "I mean the deceit there is really one-dimensional, they always seem like trouble right away... or maybe that's my super power." His voice faded to a mumble for that last part, as he looked off to the side. "No, I'm the squishy mortal. Comic relief."

Oh. I guess our experiences are different, then.

What was that one bit?

[Adam couldn't quite hear, even when he brought his phone a little closer. He hated it when people mumbled.]

"Huh? What?" He blinked, looking back at the phone. "Oh... uh... that I'm squishy mortal comic relief?"

Oh. Okay. Sorry, I don't hear so well when people mumble.

[Wait, hold on a minute-]

Mortal compared to what?

"Uuuuuuh... you know. Garden variety criminal masterminds?" He asks, all hope and sunshine and rainbows. And completely full of shit.

Do they suddenly not count as mortal?

[Because if they didn't, whoo boy he had even more questions.]

"Well, okay, garden variety for Beacon Hills," Stiles conceded. "We're known for the really weird shit."

Where's Beacon Hills at?

[He'd never heard of it, but that didn't mean much. Before this, he'd barely been out of Henrietta.]

"Cali," he replied brightly. "Supernatural capitol of the world, probably. All kinds of crazy shit goes down there, narrowly disguised as the ever-reliable 'animal attack'."

Mmm. I've never been that far west. I'm from Virginia.

[And potentially a different reality. He was pretty sure in his world, anyplace could become the supernatural hot spot thanks to the ley lines.]

Do people really believe the whole animal attack thing?

"Denial is a powerful drug, my man. Nobody wants to think the things that go bump in the night aren't trees and gusts of wind," Stiles shrugged. "So you got that kind of crap in Virginia?" He enunciated the last word with a god-awful fake hick accent.

[Adam made a face. The kind that said he was so far from amused. It also made him feel self-conscious and especially glad he'd more or less squashed his Southern accent.]

Don't be an ass.

We've got some weird things in Virginia.

[What was safe to talk about and what wasn't?]

There was a dragon, once.

Stiles grinned remorselessly. "Hey, it's not so bad. I'm gonna be stuck in West Virginia after college, at least for a while."

The mention of a dragon wipes the grin off his face, though, and he pulls his phone closer. "Dragon like, real dragon? Flesh and blood? Western or Eastern?" All the sudden Adam is just getting a look at the ceiling as Stiles drags his laptop closer and starts typing furiously. "Dragons, dragons, dragons... fuck I hope it wasn't an Eastern dragon."

That's no excuse to make fun of people.

[It was one of his touchy subjects, right up there with money and gifts.]

Uh- I don't know? I didn't see it in person. I just know it's dead now.

[That was a lie; it was asleep, but that was as good as dead.]

"Sorry! Sorry," he replies, a little distractedly. "Oh, dead? Dead is good. Well, maybe not good, but better than alive and trying to eat you." He pokes his head into view for a few seconds. "How dead are we talking? Like bones or..?"

Just...very dead. It won't be bothering anyone anymore.

[He didn't bother to add that he was worried that dragon could wake up again someday, as full of fire and rage and hatred as it'd been, and lay waste to the world.]

Yeah, that's not inspiring a whole lot of confidence, Adam. "Uhuh," he replied, before picking up his phone again, pulling it closer. "Okay, so. I'll hang up and come out front, and like, bug you about this dragon some more in person, yeah?"

[Look, the whole thing was very complicated. He'd also almost forgotten that he'd been insisting Stiles meet him outside so he could drive him to get his meds.]

Yeah, okay. I'll be there in a few minutes.

"Cool," Stiles replied, then cut the feed.

To go stand outside the apartments, probably still chatting up that cute girl or something, if the way he was grinning at his phone was anything to go by.

Adam arrived about ten minutes later, riding his dreamed motorcycle with his name stitched into the seat. This time, he had two helmets with him. The one he was wearing and a second one for a passenger. Who would be Stiles, in this case.

Pulling the motorcycle up in front of the building, he parked and flipped the switch (there was only ON/OFF, no place for keys) to turn off the engine. "Hey. Are you ready to go?"

Stiles looks up from his phone and flashes a grin, stuffing the phone in his pocket and stepped over, letting his gaze wander the bike. "Totally ready," he agreed, grabbing the spare helmet and yanking it on, though he doesn't bother to secure it before he swings his leg over the edge of the bike.

As if he had any idea what he was doing. He lands in an awkward position and has to shift around a little to get comfortable, looking down and trying to figure out where to put his feet. "Thanks for this, man. It's been a minute since I've been out of the apartment."

"Helmet." He wasn't going anywhere until that thing was actually secure. "And hold onto me if you need to." He wouldn't mind, honest.

"It's no problem; I'm glad to help when I can." Even if it was just taking someone to get their ADHD meds from the pharmacy. That could be life-changing. It was still important.

"It's on," Stiles replied, giving it a firm pat, loud enough for Adam to hear him smack it, but he also reached under to click the strap. Which didn't mean he tightened it, but it was at least slightly more secure than before. That was progress, right?

"Where do I put my feet?" he asked, putting his arms around Adam. "I don't wanna get burned, I've seen people who've done that."

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