[The first answer is reasonable. Of course, that only makes Stiles—obstinate as he is—even more inclined to believe an ulterior motive is being hidden from him. Something about Tyki Mikk bothers him; the man isn’t just posturing—he truly seems completely at ease in this sex-crazed environment. And yet the watch on his wrist betrays him as another wildcard. Stiles understands that all kinds of personalities have been drawn to this resort, but Tyki’s blatant comfort and nonchalance here aren’t normal. With that in mind, Stiles returns the watchful look closely.

Tyki takes his time in continuing. As the man ashes the cigarette, Stiles finds himself scratching idly at his throat, where the fabric collar of his button-up, beneath the waistcoat, suddenly feels too restrictive. This room is too warm.]

“Familiar,” [he echoes tonelessly, though the incredulous arch of his eyebrows gives him away.] You’re not really making a great case for yourself, buddy.

[Because Stiles can recall the “look in his eyes” from earlier. Nothing about it would have been inviting.]

I kinda seem to draw certain people to me. [Chin lifting, he stares down his nose at Tyki.] Knowing that, just what kind of psychopath are you?