Derek came to in his loft. It takes a lot to knock the werewolf out - not much gets passed him, but this time something did. Something cunning. He looked around, tried to move. He was tied to a chair, his hands bound with a rope that sizzled every time he moved in it. It seemed to be have once been soaked in wolfsbane water which had since dried. Fortunately that meant the sting was slightly more bearable, but still rendered him incapable of breaking free

"Are you going to come out and grace me with your presence?" He said to the empty darkness as if this was just some minor inconvenience. At that announcement he heard a familiar soft chuckle, and out walked a disheveled, tired looking Stiles from the shadows.

Derek's eyes pursed, trying to tell if there was a hint of the real Stiles was there. The chuckle continued. "Nope. Sorry, Derek. Stiles is...away at the moment," the nogitsune teased.

That seemed to anger Derek who responded hoarsely by asking "well what do you want then?"

The nogitsune looked back at Derek. It began to move towards him, slowly, unstably, as if were a ghost dancing in the wind. It circled him a few times, running its hands over his broad shoulders, until it came to a stop in front of him. It bent down so it and the werewolf were staring eye-to-eye only inches away from each other. "Well, I just want to have some fun, Derek," it said. It was eerie how much like Stiles it sounded just then.

"Well, sorry to be the one to tell you, but this party you're throwing...it's kind of dead, and I'm not really having much fun."

"Oh, but you will, Derek," the nogitsune smirked. "You see, I have Peter preoccupied." At the sound of his uncle's name, Derek pulled against the ropes, making him wince, but forced himself to not say anything. The nogitsune clicked its tongue, "that was silly." It continued to dance around the room, now running its hand over possessions of Derek's. The walls and beams as well. Anything, really, like it was marking territory by doing so. "And Cora. So feisty. Sarcastic, too, you know," it chuckled, "like Stiles."

Derek remained silent. He knew responding to these threats, which he hoped were empty ones, is just what the nogitsune wanted. Pain. Strife. Chaos. Suffering. Anarchy.

The nogitsune was expecting this, and being the cunning fox that is was renowned for, it was no surprise that it began on a different, more direct tangent. "The strong silent thing you've got going. It's what I'd expect, you know. From someone in your situation, that is." It stopped moving to twirl on its heels and look back at Derek. "Someone whose whole family died in a fire set by their lover," it said as it cocked its head then paused. "How stupid of you."

Derek's breath was becoming heavy, but he remained resolute in his silence. "And then to make it worse, the next person you court is a virgin-killing darach?" The nogitsune looked up, seemingly confused. "Do you have a thing for psychos, Derek?" It laughed. "I imagine it would be hard to get close to anybody after that. But you've managed, haven't you? Look at you, with your faux pack of teenagers. Got yourself some werewolves, a banshee, and a kitsune. How cute." It quickly moved back in close to Derek, making him rear back in the chair. "Do you trust them?" It queried intently. When Derek didn't respond, it repeated "DO YOU TRUST THEM," shouting.

"I do," he answered reluctantly.

The nogitsune smiled as it took a few steps back. "Of course. That's your thing. Trust anything that shows you a shred of kindness. Right?" Derek huffed under his breath. "What, no witty quip this time?" The nogitsune seemed slightly disappointed with Derek's lack of response. "You think they don't care about you, don't you, Derek?" He looked up at the nogitsune, a look of admission that he did think that, on his face. "Oh boy," it chuckled, "you don't know then…" It paused.

"Stiles is in love with you, Derek."