Mama, we all go to hell

samlosechuster:

         The redhead kept her eyes on the male, silently studying him. There was something off about him, a hint of deception in his tone, though she couldn’t exactly put her finger on it. The way he spoke, it was like he was hoping for some type of specific answer from her.

                 ❝Well as you can see I’ve recently had a very close brush with death and very nearly died, so I suppose there’s a lot on my mind. —Though you seem to want to know something, so why don’t you come out with it and simply ask?❞

            With a sigh, the Banshee sat across from him; one leg crossing over the other as she leaned back in her chair.

    ❝So, what therapeutic techniques do you want to use on me first?❞

                  like werewolves maybe? Who the Alpha is? But all these questions sounded a bit intrusive, so Sam kept quiet, tapping his finger on his jaw as every therapist or whatever did in the movies.

Stiles sighed as she rolled her eyes heavenwards, this was gonna be a long class period “Nope wasn’t me. Some guy with a buzz cut, actually,” she rolled her neck lazily as her sarcasm thickened. “But just pointing out that I don’t know anything, so you’re pretty much asking me to tell you about something I have zero clue about.”

                   ❝Huh.— No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type.❞

      No way was she spilling her guts to some random stranger. An extremely attractive stranger at that.

                    Sam replied, motioning for the red head to sit down in the chair across from him.