Once it dawns on him that he’s no longer being kissed—and it does take a few moments to register—Stiles’ facial features are rearranged into a very particular expression. It’s the type of expression that desperately wants to appear casual and indifferent, but is offset by blatantly nonplussed surprise. At this rate, he’ll catch more than just flies with his apparently unhinged jaw.

“Wh-what?”

Right, they were talking about tails. Or something? Still reeling, Stiles glances over his own shoulder to stare blankly at his backside. No tails. Except it was never a question of whether or not he would grow tails—he’s very confused right now, okay.