[ He's about to have some undoubtedly quick comeback for Derek's banter when Stiles' attention is caught by Anita. Turning towards her, he raises his hand in greeting, grinning. ]
Running at seven am's part of that whole Satanic cult thing where you're from too, huh.
[ Turning his head the moment that Anita opens the door, but not enough to give away that he hears her, Derek stretches his arms across his chest, one at a time while listening to the rest of the neighborhood. Mrs. Johnson is starting her morning ritual of setting up camp at the kitchen window while she makes breakfast, and he can't help but snort softly before he actually turns to focus on Stiles and Anita properly. ]
Does your cult branch sacrifice chickens after the run, or goats?
[ His comment is completely dry, but almost indulgent. As if he's completely given up on correcting Stiles and telling him to stop. (He has.) ]
[She grins broadly at Stiles in reply. Oh, cult humor. Hilarious. Sacrifice? That's funny, too. A little close to home, but funny.]
You bet it is. I think there's something about it in the rulebooks? All the branches adhere to it.
[In all honesty, she hates exercise, and thinner thighs is not nearly enough incentive for the torture she puts herself through. It's all about being able to outrun things bigger and badder than her should the need arise -- which it often has. Exercising isn't so bad when she can get Dean to run with her, but those instances are few and far between.
Jerk eats like a horse and never puts on a pound. It was extremely unfair, really.]
Gotta be. [ As he glances down at Anita and leans against the mailbox, an idea forms. Okay, it's a pretty nonthreatening idea, and it'd actually be pretty fun--plus it gives them a chance to get to know Anita a little better.
Eat your heart out, Mrs. Johnson.] --You wanna come running with us? Derek kicks my ass every time so it might be nice to have an actual, y'know, jogging partner.
You keep up pretty well, all things considered. [ It's obvious overall that Derek is a little distracted, his attention moving from them as he looks out at the neighborhood again. He's listening to everything around them still, taking note of the changes and making sure that nothing is off. The entire cul-de-sac actually has its own routine, so it's good to know that it seems to be fairly normal. ]
I apologize in advance if the neighbors all decide to rubberneck from their houses, though. They seem to like doing that every time we go running.
[ A dry comment, but he's glancing off to where Mrs. Johnson is observing from her kitchen window. Without a word, he raises a hand in greeting. Eat your heart out, indeed. ]
Taking in the view like only a bunch of little old ladies lasciviously staring at someone who looks like they're made out of marble can. [ Stiles pats Derek's stomach and smiles brightly, jerking his head towards the forest. ] Unfortunately for them, this is a straight up museum exhibit, and I'm the guy who gets to polish the statue once every couple of months. [ And then he laughs. ]
Totally not intruding! We go for a mile both ways down through the forest. Maybe we can tag team Derek and actually beat him at something.
[ As Stiles pats at his stomach, Derek notably rolls his eyes but doesn't turn his attention fully towards him just yet. Everything seems all right, and so far the woods seem a safe option right now-- besides, it's not like any of them are going alone. ]
Probably not, but it's always worth a try.
[ The innuendo remains unaddressed for now, before he looks to Anita and offers her a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. ]
More the merrier-- we're up every morning except Sunday, because someone decided to pass a law regarding exercising on Sundays.
[Anita chokes back a laugh at the innuendo. A couple of years ago, she would have been red in the face, but now she had the grace to be amused. Extensive time spent in Dean Winchester's company had been enough to desensitize her to a hell of a lot of things that used to make her blush.]
Aw, how cute. It's like having a trophy husband.
[She grins, bracing one hand against her waist and cocking her hips to the side as she turns her attention to Derek. Two miles? Very doable. She was used to doing four -- alone. Two with company was a hell of a lot more enjoyable.]
I may have to make a habit of tagging along some mornings, then. I've got that same rule, by the way.
[She gives Stiles a nod of approval, forcing a somber expression. It isn't entirely convincing.]
Basically I don't believe in doing anything I don't feel like on Sundays.
[She still went to church, though, whenever she could make it. Alone, but she went.]
And he cooks, too. [ Stiles winks at her for that comment, elbowing Derek in the chest lightly, then runs a hand over his own hair, jerking his head towards the path. ]
Thank you! That's how it should be. It's the lay on your ass and do nothing day, period. [ He laughs and waves over towards the forest. ] Ready to go?
I also double as a sugar daddy. [ Derek's comment is completely dry as he comes back to the conversation at large, actually paying attention now that his preliminary scan of the neighborhood has yielded nothing amiss. Thankfully-- having the threat right in the heart of his territory is something he doesn't want.
He rolls his eyes at them both in regards to not doing anything on Sundays, adding a slight shift of his head in it as well. But he's been coerced rather convincingly into staying in bed with Stiles when it comes to Sunday mornings. ]
You two will get along just fine. [ Rolling his head with an actual purpose, he cracks his neck and shoulders before looking to the forest. ]
[Oh, she likes both of you. She nods, rolling her right shoulder back in its socket a couple of times to loosen it. She'd already stretched before coming outside, glad to have a nice, clean, non-skeevy living room carpet to do it on rather than the floor of a seedy motel room.
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Running at seven am's part of that whole Satanic cult thing where you're from too, huh.
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Does your cult branch sacrifice chickens after the run, or goats?
[ His comment is completely dry, but almost indulgent. As if he's completely given up on correcting Stiles and telling him to stop. (He has.) ]
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You bet it is. I think there's something about it in the rulebooks? All the branches adhere to it.
[In all honesty, she hates exercise, and thinner thighs is not nearly enough incentive for the torture she puts herself through. It's all about being able to outrun things bigger and badder than her should the need arise -- which it often has. Exercising isn't so bad when she can get Dean to run with her, but those instances are few and far between.
Jerk eats like a horse and never puts on a pound. It was extremely unfair, really.]
I'm partial to chickens. Less mess.
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Eat your heart out, Mrs. Johnson.] --You wanna come running with us? Derek kicks my ass every time so it might be nice to have an actual, y'know, jogging partner.
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I apologize in advance if the neighbors all decide to rubberneck from their houses, though. They seem to like doing that every time we go running.
[ A dry comment, but he's glancing off to where Mrs. Johnson is observing from her kitchen window. Without a word, he raises a hand in greeting. Eat your heart out, indeed. ]
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I take it they're enjoying the view, rather than just being really overenthusiastic athletic supporters.
[She smiles at Stiles a moment later, shrugging easily.]
If you're sure I'm not intruding, yeah, I'd love to. Running alone gets pretty old, but skipping it isn't much of an option.
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Totally not intruding! We go for a mile both ways down through the forest. Maybe we can tag team Derek and actually beat him at something.
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Probably not, but it's always worth a try.
[ The innuendo remains unaddressed for now, before he looks to Anita and offers her a slight quirk at the corner of his mouth. ]
More the merrier-- we're up every morning except Sunday, because someone decided to pass a law regarding exercising on Sundays.
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Aw, how cute. It's like having a trophy husband.
[She grins, bracing one hand against her waist and cocking her hips to the side as she turns her attention to Derek. Two miles? Very doable. She was used to doing four -- alone. Two with company was a hell of a lot more enjoyable.]
I may have to make a habit of tagging along some mornings, then. I've got that same rule, by the way.
[She gives Stiles a nod of approval, forcing a somber expression. It isn't entirely convincing.]
Basically I don't believe in doing anything I don't feel like on Sundays.
[She still went to church, though, whenever she could make it. Alone, but she went.]
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Thank you! That's how it should be. It's the lay on your ass and do nothing day, period. [ He laughs and waves over towards the forest. ] Ready to go?
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He rolls his eyes at them both in regards to not doing anything on Sundays, adding a slight shift of his head in it as well. But he's been coerced rather convincingly into staying in bed with Stiles when it comes to Sunday mornings. ]
You two will get along just fine. [ Rolling his head with an actual purpose, he cracks his neck and shoulders before looking to the forest. ]
no subject
[Oh, she likes both of you. She nods, rolling her right shoulder back in its socket a couple of times to loosen it. She'd already stretched before coming outside, glad to have a nice, clean, non-skeevy living room carpet to do it on rather than the floor of a seedy motel room.
She could get used to this pretty damn fast.]
Ready when you guys are. Let's go.