[Stiles was used to arousal. It was one of those constant things that thrummed inside him, spiking with adrenaline and endorphins. This was... different, and he had to wonder if he had some sort of secret fear fetish or something, because feeling anything beyond pants-pissing terror at the moment was a stupid, stupid thing.]

What, are you a hydra now? Cut off your head and you grow two more? You can kill that with fire. Is that what we should do, huh? Set you on fire?

[Fear always made his mouth run away with him, took the control away from him and made him just react instead of thinking things through. Which is why he always mouthed off to things that were more than capable of tearing him into itty bitty pieces.]

You have no idea what I'm afraid of. Or anything else about me. You don't know me.

[But Stiles was so afraid that he did...]