Miles can immediately see the appeal -- how can he not? Those big, sweet eyes, all that soft, freckled skin, the little tremor in the human's lilting voice as they try to seem brave by meeting his gaze. Like he can't smell the fear radiating in each movement, thick in the air, how Kurt's new wolfish instincts are screaming at them to flee back to the pack's safe embrace.

But they won't. Because Benji's their mate, his mark is on their body -- which is ludicrous, ridiculous, that a barely-grown pup was permitted to claim them, but Miles has been driven away. It isn't fair. By rights, he should outrank nearly every other member of the pack, should've gotten to claim Kurt before the rest if them. Before Corrigan, if things were truly just.

Time to start setting things right. Miles pulls out a vial from one deep pocket, holding it up to catch the light. "You mean this? I never carry poison without an antidote. That's just good planning." Another weighty pause, then he jerks his head in a beckoning motion. "If you want it, come get it."

He doesn't move forward, still standing across the clearing, meaning that Kurt will need to stand and approach of their own volition. They'll need to willingly put themselves into his reach, against every instinct that screams at them to stay away.