@mccallito
Pastel blue leash is tangled between thin digits. his pale skin has already turned an array of washed out shades of reds and pinks from the tugging and slipping. stiles doesn’t plan on complaining though. not now, not anytime soon. the two of them are walking down aisles, keeping an eye out for the necessities. everything they need to manage the little monster, whom by the way had found a sudden interest in the corner of a bag of cat litter and had been pulling it off the rack. you wanted a puppy, stiles. ❛ hey c’mon. that’s not a chew toy. y’know they actually have those here? you don’t want cat litter, ‘bud. ❜ he kneels down, lets a free hand glide over raven fur, but he’s met with small teeth, quick to press into his fingers. does it bother him? no. ❛ oh my god. they have puppy onesies. we ‘gotta get him a puppy onesie, babe. look at ‘em! ❜
