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[hyperactive]

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[hyperactive]

[ Ah, he doesn't wanna do this. He's opened up enough. There's only so much Stiles can throw on someone before he starts feeling like some itchy, hivey mess, and they definitely reached that point the second Logan threw a sorry his way. Stiles just scoffs and waves the sympathy away, not really wanting to dwell. ]

Sorry about your mom. All those jokes people make about her.

[ Must've been hard growing up the son of the woman all those your mom jokes are really about. ]

[knewaguy]

[Logan just stares - silent and his usual moody self, even without the pain and aches.]

I should probably head out.

[hyperactive]

[ Right, okay, Stiles deserved that. A part of him wants to ask Logan to hang out for a little while longer, but another part of him is pretty drained by what they've talked about already, and sending him out now that there's an opportunity feels infinitely better than sending him out later with a cheery sure, okay, let me know if you find any cures for dementia out there, catch ya on the flip side.

So - Stiles stands, makes like a good host. He offers a hand to Logan in case he, like, needs it to get up. ]

I'll see you around? Don't be a stranger, okay? And - uh - tell me if that kid feels better.

[knewaguy]

[Logan looks at Stiles' hand, then looks up at Stiles' face and - well, the point of no thanks gets across non verbally. If not, Logan'll slap it away before getting up on his own, thank you very much. He'll grab his bag, checking that everything is stored away, and then cracks his neck to the side with... a particularly audible little crunch.]

I'll keep you posted. Thanks, kid.

[And so he'll - depart, if there's not anything else to say.]