some guys think they can't be winners

[beanchaointe]

Comments

[phonetically]

( Screaming from a passing rollercoaster seems to reorient his baseline, as he clears his head and separates the sounds around them. But, his head is clearer now as he looks back up. )

Wait.

( Cora and Scott can see his eyes have returned to normal. His pale look is - well, 1% less pale.

Straightening up, he lets go of the picnic table. )

I'm okay. And, it's like -- the pool. You have to throw me in, so, let's all jump. And you're both here. If I feel it again.

[impetere]

[Cora glances to Scott, seeing how he feels about this. Stiles isn't wrong - eventually they're going to have to trust him to make the right choice. But given how stressed everyone was, it's hard to say whether or not the statement rings true.]

Are you sure?

[phonetically]

( Scott trusts his friend, but, he's worried. Stiles would say anything, especially if he was still desperate. Scott tries to sense Stiles' motive, searching his eyes and his tone (3)? )

[impetere]

[Fortunately (or unfortunately?), Cora doesn't do much better (2). As much as the werewolves get extra information when they need to, that doesn't mean they can always make sense of it.

Cora nods and takes one step back, willing to trust Stiles for now.]

Okay. Let's go.

[phonetically]

( With what they're working with, Scott lets go first, stepping back. Stiles needs to be able to do this on his own, even though Scott's nervous.

But, Stiles straightens up, more himself than he was before his panic attack. )

Let's go.

( He sticks close to his friends, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells, but much more together than he had it. )

What should we try first?

[impetere]

[She takes a deep breath, before shrugging. It's been a while since she's been to a carnival.]

Food or rides?

[phonetically]

Food. Then rides.

( Really give something to slosh around. )

[impetere]

Food it is.

[And they'll head off to the midway, where Cora will get an appropriately werewolf-sized pile of food. Cheesesteak, fries and a soda and moves towards the wooden picnic tables set up for the patrons to sit and eat. She'll go grab a table for the boys to track her down.]

[phonetically]

( Scott gets his own werewolf size meal, some of which Stiles will snack from despite not being able to actually enjoy any of it. The flavor's there, at least, but he's pushed through the cravings. He does wish he'd brought his flask. Did Scott?

Scott indeed slipped Stiles' flask into his coat and passes it over to Stiles as he takes a swig and the two men join Cora at the table. )

See. I can do this. I got this.

( Another pull before he closes the flask again. )

[impetere]

[He does seem to be doing better so Cora relaxes some more. Yeah, this will be fine. There's nothing about this that's going to go wrong at all.]

I didn't think you couldn't. But this is the kind of thing that takes practice.

[phonetically]

What with you being the expert on all things vampire.

( Scott stays out of it, sipping on a soda. )

[impetere]

[Cora's eyes narrow at him as she takes a sip of her own soda.]

I have super senses too, you know. And my own capacity to go homicidal. That's not an exclusively vampire thing.

[She's just saying.

But Scott will get a convenient exit as his phone begins to vibrate against the wooden table, with the name "Davina" flashing on the caller ID.]

[phonetically]

( "Try not to debate impulse control too hard," Scott says, slipping away.

Stiles watches Scott walk away, curious and then he looks back. )

I know. Remember that I am just getting used to my newfound homicidal tendencies. The worst I could worry about being human was incurable insomnia and what some might call obsessive tendencies. Hype that up to 100 and add in my ADHD. ( He muses. ) You think they make Ritalin for vampires?

[impetere]

You would have to talk to a witch for that. Or maybe Deaton. He might be able to whip something up with all his druid herbs.

[It's not her area of expertise. But she's not unsympathetic to everything he's adjusting to.]

I'm not judging you. You get that right? I just don't want you to hurt anyone anymore than you want to hurt anyone.

[phonetically]

( Could help. Feels like cheating, and if they'd found something, why aren't other vampires using it? )

You're right. I don't want to hurt anyone. But, it's now built into my DNA.

[impetere]

At least your homicidal tendencies have purpose.

[Vampires need to eat after all, not that she's sure it'll make him feel better.]

Mine are just ... mindless violence.

[phonetically]

Is that how you see it? Mindless violence? Because, you've saved me before, saved Derek. Saved yourself. You may not have - the smoothest of manners, but what you lack in etiquette, you make up for with everything Cora. And you wouldn't be you. It's how you were born. And, I like that you.

( Well, that wasn't planned. But, here it came. He has liked her since junior year. Though, that was more a one-sided crush turned problem turned Cora escaping for Brazil. He's not a kid, anymore, though. )

[impetere]

[Her eyes lift up at that, watching him as though she's trying to read between the lines of it. There's a reason she's here after all, rather than in New Orleans worrying over her brother. But she didn't actually think there would be any reciprocation in that.]

And you also forget that the night I met you all, the rest of the pack spent the better part of the night trying to keep me from giving in to the worst of what being a werewolf is.

[She pulls another one of the fries out of the pile.]

But I like you too. And I never want you to know what it feels like to lose control like that.

[phonetically]

Because, you were kept in the vault. You were driven to the brink of insanity, to violence. And, at that very same time, Jennifer Blake was sacrificing virgins. You didn't hurt anyone that night, Cora. Yeah, you cut Derek to ribbons, but he recovered - and you two reunited.

( Boyd was calmed, too. )

And if you need an anchor, if it's not already your brother. Make it me.

[commend]

( Scott leaves the friendly line of fire, a smile coming to his face as he steps out of the carnival grounds. )

Hey you.

( He does check back, making sure no food is thrown or a werewolf hasn't stormed off. )

[regentem]

Hey, yourself.

[He can hear the smile in her voice, because as much as they've been texting, it's good to hear his voice. Remind her that he's a real person and not just a figment of her imagination.]

Did I call at a bad time?

[commend]

Never.

( Absolutely call anytime, though. She can definitely hear the smile behind his voice, too. )

Just at a carnival with Stiles. How are you doing?

[regentem]

I'm good. Just getting some things in order for next week.

[Some of the witches also happen to be bakers. And the French Quarter is going to be full of sugary confection very, very soon.]

Which is actually why I was calling. I was wondering if you might be free to come back to New Orleans?

[A beat.]

Not permanently. I mean, it'd be great if you did want to come back permanently, but I know you have Stiles and I'm not trying to...

[Breathe, Davina. Take it from the top.]

There's this beignet festival next week and I was going to go and I thought we might be able to go. Together.

[commend]

( That smile doesn't die as she rambles. He waits for her to say what she means, though. )

What're beignets? ( (2) Not ... what he should say. ) I mean. Yes. I want to. Are they a New Orleans thing? Don't tell me. I should wait until I get there. Which, I want to do if I haven't... made that clear.

[regentem]

Beignets are basically the best pastry on Earth.

[She will give him at least that much, so he knows what he's preparing for.]

But good. I think you'll really like it.

[And she's missed you. But she's not sure if they're on the right ground to be able to say stuff like that yet.]