#stormskinned

“I can’t...I can’t just leave Beacon Hills. It would burn to the ground without me.” Stiles says finally, after a lot of silent deliberation--which was a big deal, because most of Stiles’ thinking was done out loud. “What you’re asking...it’s...its a big deal.”

“I’m not sure how I can help you, but I’m intent to do so.”

           “Well, that’s certain one helluva way to start a conversation.”  Amusement, if anything, colored the words spoken as he turned his attention to the dark haired woman beside him at the bar.  He’d taken notice of her when she sat -- who wouldn’t -- but he’d been focused on the game playing out on the screen above the bar.  He had a pretty penny riding on the outcome.  Nothing that he’d missed if he lost it, but there was always fun in a bit of risk.  “Should I be ... flattered, or concerned?”  A flirtatious smirk then, as he shifted his weight to face her a bit more directly.  “Both, maybe?”

      “I'm The Slayer. It's sort of a thing.“

     “ You break so easily. Why do you bother getting back up? “

      “ No, bunch of wanna-blessed-bes. Nowadays every girl with a henna tattoo and a spice rack thinks she's a sister to the dark ones. “

            “ I didn't ask for this responsibility, unlike some people, who shall remain lifeless. I don’t have anything to atone for. If they know what’s good for them, the PTB better just stay out of my head. “

          “ I know why you're doing this. I mean, you're practically stalking my sister “