[ Briefly contemplating getting up from the floor, he instead opts to sit there for a bit longer. There's nowhere else they really need to be-- the data will speak for them long enough that Derek feels they won't need to offer any reports yet-- and at this point, he doesn't think they're quite ready to be trusted with finer motor movements. So he settles, looking back at Stiles as they sit together. Everything is fresh in his mind, and he's not going to be able to sleep well tonight, but...
Well. The numbers really don't lie. Taking in a deep breath, he lets the corner of his mouth twitch the slightest bit in response to the very faint smile on Stiles' own face. ] Sounds right.
[ It's a small attempt at reassuring, although they're steady now. He's finding it easier to breathe, easier to remind himself that Stiles' eyes are amber like whiskey where Paige's were a cello's fine, worn wood. They aren't sitting there looking at old ghosts, although they might be remembering them together, sharing them now with someone they least expected. ]
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Well. The numbers really don't lie. Taking in a deep breath, he lets the corner of his mouth twitch the slightest bit in response to the very faint smile on Stiles' own face. ] Sounds right.
[ It's a small attempt at reassuring, although they're steady now. He's finding it easier to breathe, easier to remind himself that Stiles' eyes are amber like whiskey where Paige's were a cello's fine, worn wood. They aren't sitting there looking at old ghosts, although they might be remembering them together, sharing them now with someone they least expected. ]