Stiles nods once wordlessly, subdued. The soft hand in his is squeezed in return, but he has nothing else to offer. This is a shock, one he barely can process so suddenly and on so little sleep. But he refuses to brush aside what Nancy has told him; no, as soon as he is able, he’s going to do some researching. There’s got to be information on this slimeball somewhere. There’s got to be a way Nancy and the boys can be freed from their indenture. There’s got to be a solution.

“I should get going,” he murmurs, though the last thing he wants to do is leave Nancy now. She shouldn’t be alone. She should have someone with her, to support her. “I’m going to crash hard soon, after last night. But I’ll text you.”