It didn’t take Aleksander long to piece together the information. In fact, it took him approximately one minute and thirty-seven seconds to think through his known data on Stiles Stilinski, remember the boy that he met the other day, and realize that the two weren’t the same. For one, there was a drastic change in how the held himself. The boy he had met before didn’t seem to have this nervous tick that was notorious for Stiles. Aleksander wasn’t even sure the boy himself noticed it anymore, the way his fingers danced carelessly against his jeans, or the way his limbs flailed– exaggerating every movement despite the fact that he had full control of his body.
His first thought would be shapeshifter, but he knew that couldn’t be. Nevermind the fact that there was a distinct change in the way their moles arranged themselves over their arms and face, he had the information to know that Stiles had been born as a twin. Sure, that twin was supposed to be dead, but Aleksander knew that the government made mistakes when it came to information like this. To assess the situation, the most logical answer was that this other boy was Stiles’ twin.
“And yet here we are,” he said simply. His words would likely confuse, though he had ultimately no doubt about his convictions, he had to be sure. “Have we met before?” It was a stupid question, Aleksander remembered everyone that he ever met, and yet it answer all of his questions for the mean time.
Stiles could practically feel the man thinking, trying to figure him out, and he already knew that he had fucked up. How, he wasn’t sure, but he was starting to feel incredibly uncomfortable, his anxiety growing and his nervous ticks becoming even more apparent as they continued to study each other.
His blood ran cold at the man’s question, the gears in his own mind working now as he realized that it was entirely possible that he had previously run into Stuart, thinking him to be Stiles. He had always known that this would be a possibility with his twin coming Topside so often, but he had hoped that with the false handicap, no one would pick up on their differences in mannerisms. Of course, he wasn’t even sure that that was what was going on, and he squinted slightly at the man. A vague, dismissive answer would be safest, but Stiles decided to take a chance and then try to get out of here.
“We have,” he asserted with a straight face. “Don’t you remember?”
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