The purple nightie might have been admired under different circumstances. As it is, Stiles is too anxious to pay much heed to what Nancy is wearing at the moment. There are deep, dark bruises under his eyes that would suggest insomnia, despite how heavily he apparently slept the night before. Once he’s certain she’s fully awake, he moves away the bed to pace for a few seconds.

“No. Thanks, but—”

He’s perturbed. Stiles doesn’t remember how he got here and blackouts are not an experience he’s accustomed to.

“What am I doing here? What happened?”