[Well. That went well, he thinks with a sigh as he hears Dean hang up on the other end of the comm. He purses his lips and rubs a hand over his neck before shutting off his own comm and eying the thick file on his desk. It feels wrong. He second-guesses himself though, at Dean's permission -- no. At his command. He picks it up, lets it rest on his knees for a long time before he moves to sit on his bed with it.
He draws in a breath, wondering when exactly he became the kind of guy who hesitates before reading people's personal files. He's read his dad's personal files. But that's because he has to take care of his dad. Has to keep him safe.
Isn't that sort of his job here, too? To keep Dean safe? To help him? Somehow it doesn't comfort him that much, but he begins to read anyway. He pours over the file for hours and barely gets halfway through before he has to take a break, getting up and pacing the room for awhile to try and rid himself of the nervous energy that's built up within him. The pacing doesn't help -- it never does, but it's a habit that he's never been able to break. He flexes his fingers before sitting back down and picking up where he's left off.
It's a lot to absorb. The totality of Dean's life -- the written chronicle literally in his hands -- is not at all like reading a random autobiography. He closes the file, wishing he already had someplace safe to lock it away just in case. He hasn't had problems on the ship, but he knows others have, and he doesn't want to risk any of the information getting out to anyone. He lets out a breath, looks around and then picks up the file. He moves to his closet and buries it beneath a stack of ancient comic books he hasn't touched since he was fourteen. It isn't great, but right now it's the best that he can do.
Stiles rocks back on his heels, staring blankly down at the floor for a long moment before rising to his feet once more and moving to pick up his comm device.]
So. How about that drink? [He uses the same tone now that he did before, voice betraying nothing of what he's read and now knows.]
[ Private : Voice ]
He draws in a breath, wondering when exactly he became the kind of guy who hesitates before reading people's personal files. He's read his dad's personal files. But that's because he has to take care of his dad. Has to keep him safe.
Isn't that sort of his job here, too? To keep Dean safe? To help him? Somehow it doesn't comfort him that much, but he begins to read anyway. He pours over the file for hours and barely gets halfway through before he has to take a break, getting up and pacing the room for awhile to try and rid himself of the nervous energy that's built up within him. The pacing doesn't help -- it never does, but it's a habit that he's never been able to break. He flexes his fingers before sitting back down and picking up where he's left off.
It's a lot to absorb. The totality of Dean's life -- the written chronicle literally in his hands -- is not at all like reading a random autobiography. He closes the file, wishing he already had someplace safe to lock it away just in case. He hasn't had problems on the ship, but he knows others have, and he doesn't want to risk any of the information getting out to anyone. He lets out a breath, looks around and then picks up the file. He moves to his closet and buries it beneath a stack of ancient comic books he hasn't touched since he was fourteen. It isn't great, but right now it's the best that he can do.
Stiles rocks back on his heels, staring blankly down at the floor for a long moment before rising to his feet once more and moving to pick up his comm device.]
So. How about that drink? [He uses the same tone now that he did before, voice betraying nothing of what he's read and now knows.]