[He can literally smell their discomfort, and it's all he needs. He remembers what the Lydia of that universe was trying to do. So he fidgets, and nods aggressively at Stiles' question. Maybe Lydia just needs a minute alone: he knows he needed days, after the last time, to just sit and pick apart the differences, convince himself that he was separate.]

Yeah, uh, lets go grab like, a pitcher and some cups. We can like, be right back. Without rushing, cause, we wouldn't want to spill anything.

[Nailed it, McCall. Nailed it.]