Leaning over his legs, Stiles rests his forehead against his knees and stares at the pavement below them. The dizziness has started to abate, though he’s now wallowing in the awful feeling that comes from your stomach emptying itself.

“You can borrow my shoes.” Except that there’s no way in hell the sneakers would be a comfortable or suitable fit. “But okay. Water sounds good. Thanks dude. I’ll just be here.”