Okay. Fine, daddy by proxy. So... what exactly do you need from me-- whoops.
[There was one frantic attempt to flee between two pairs of legs, a little furry body tripping over Stiles' foot and sprawling. He bent over and moved to turn it around and aim it back towards the other furry bundles.]
What's a baby-- no, never mind. [It's probably something strange. It sounds a little strange. Baby gate.
Jon shuts the door behind Stiles so no one else can make an escape attempt.]
Names. [He puts his hand on his hips, observing the little squirming blind bundles.] I can't think of any damned names. [He's been calling the other wolves "the other wolves" for months now just look at him Stiles. He's a mess.]
Uh, yeah. You might want to actually think of that. Unless you want to call them wolf one and wolf two and so on.
[The one that had tried to escape seemed to have been just going for some kind of noise or smell... or maybe it liked Stiles' feet, because it was now snuffling up to his shoe, tiny teeth gnawing on his pants.]
What do you call the others? Would you-- stop that! I wear these, okay?
I... don't, I suppose. It seemed silly to give them names, they're wild wolves. Not like Ghost and the others, we raised them in Winterfell. [Completely useless, see.] ... I'm going to give one to Sansa, for that Christmas thing of yours. Don't tell her. That one, she can name.
[Jon sighs, like that little puddle is actually Stiles' fault. This is his room bro, stop making the pups pee all over it!]
Do you mind? [He scoops the wolf up and deposits it back between its mother's paws.] And I know it, that's why I'm asking you. I'm not good at this sort of thing. [Ghost had been fitting, okay? As for the rest, he's got nothin.]
I don't know. I had a snake. I named it Jake. Don't ask. I'm not really the go-to guy for naming dogs. I'd probably pick something like Piddles, for that one. Or Grumpy for the one that looks like it has scowly brows. Really, you need like, a girl for this.
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Uh... congratulations? Dad? Wait, you aren't actually the... dad, are you?
[Hey, he knew you turned into a wolf now, bro. It was possible.]
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What? No. [RUBBING HIS FACE.] It was... one of the wolves who died, I think. The smaller one.
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[There was one frantic attempt to flee between two pairs of legs, a little furry body tripping over Stiles' foot and sprawling. He bent over and moved to turn it around and aim it back towards the other furry bundles.]
Gonna need a baby gate.
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Jon shuts the door behind Stiles so no one else can make an escape attempt.]
Names. [He puts his hand on his hips, observing the little squirming blind bundles.] I can't think of any damned names. [He's been calling the other wolves "the other wolves" for months now just look at him Stiles. He's a mess.]
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[The one that had tried to escape seemed to have been just going for some kind of noise or smell... or maybe it liked Stiles' feet, because it was now snuffling up to his shoe, tiny teeth gnawing on his pants.]
What do you call the others? Would you-- stop that! I wear these, okay?
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Would you deal with this... Aww, come on. Why would you do that?
[The wolf in question hadn't liked having its chew toy taken away and had piddled right beside Stiles' other shoe.]
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Do you mind? [He scoops the wolf up and deposits it back between its mother's paws.] And I know it, that's why I'm asking you. I'm not good at this sort of thing. [Ghost had been fitting, okay? As for the rest, he's got nothin.]
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Or someone name-inclined.