[Pet. Even with alcohol warming his insides pleasantly, Stiles can barely hold back a derisive snort upon reading his selected card. Still, a morbid sense of curiosity prevents him from exiting the room. He even manages a smile when the staff collar him—dog, the tag designates—though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead, his gaze burns cold with restrained fury. While outwardly he’s been taking the situation in stride, dark rage grips his heart at the thought of being separated from his father. But a tantrum won’t win him a ride back home to Beacon Hills, will it? So he plays pretend at indulging the resort’s games, collecting information along the way.
Dressed in a blood-red waistcoat and a simple black mask, he waits alongside the other “pets” to be chosen by a “master.” His attention is primarily on the staff, carefully studying their formalwear for pockets worth picking. When Tyki stops before him, it takes Stiles a moment to realize he’s being spoken to. He considers the man in silence—adopting a bashful look as he peers through lashes, surreptitiously sizing Tyki up. The little he briefly sees does not do the Noah justice; Stiles inwardly dismisses the man as unimportant and tries to encourage the “master” to move on.]
Ennis, [he lies, voice wobbling as if he were nervous.] P. Ennis.
iii. c.
Dressed in a blood-red waistcoat and a simple black mask, he waits alongside the other “pets” to be chosen by a “master.” His attention is primarily on the staff, carefully studying their formalwear for pockets worth picking. When Tyki stops before him, it takes Stiles a moment to realize he’s being spoken to. He considers the man in silence—adopting a bashful look as he peers through lashes, surreptitiously sizing Tyki up. The little he briefly sees does not do the Noah justice; Stiles inwardly dismisses the man as unimportant and tries to encourage the “master” to move on.]
Ennis, [he lies, voice wobbling as if he were nervous.] P. Ennis.