[ stiles isn't sure what he's asking, really, so he shrugs, non-commital. both work, either work. logan says he's from canada and stiles is-- pretty fucking amused, honestly. there's this impish smile on his face that he does his best to bury, but hiding it only makes him smile even more. he shouldn't find that so funny, but - canada, really? this tough guy's from canada? that is the absolute last place he would have guessed. ]

California. Not anywhere cool, though. More overcast woods and high crime rate than sunny beaches and hot people. Well, no, that's not fair. Everyone is unfairly attractive in Beacon Hills, excluding yours truly.

[ still, he plays it off without comment, even though the urge to make jokes about how logan must've been pretty fucking far north if he absorbed all the cool frostiness of perpetually winter weather and none of the stereotypical politeness he'd probably get further south. ]

Is Canada home for you? Or - do you live somewhere else now?