Yes, I did. I tripped you off of the ledge. (matter-of-factly, remorselessly turning from stiles to take advantage of the water to do as he suggested and scrub the glue-like ooze from his arms, face, and hair.) You were lucky to mock me, and not someone lacking moral fibre.

(rich off-white material sagging sadly from his shoulders, he emerges to address stiles and those quivering limbs.)

Those worms will be drawn to what remains of their eggs, so I recommend that you leave as soon as you collect yourself. Where one or two protect the nest, more undoubtedly roam nearby... it is their way. (spoken like a true mer of resdayn, province of fucking bugs and all manner of strange, squirming creatures. now to find a way to cross the stream, already walking down the shoreline with a tightening of his sash.) Goodbye, Stiles.