[He just... looks at him. There's a hot prick beneath his eyelids when he blinks, and a knot in his throat that would be a panic attack if he hadn't learned to choke them down.]
Thanks.
[And it's barely a whisper, more of a croak, because he knows that whatever he's feeling, Derek's been through so much worse. Going through so much worse.]
[He nods once and gives a reassuring squeeze to the shoulder before taking his hand back. Sure Derek had been through worse, maybe, but that didn't mean Stiles' predicament was any less deserving sympathy and consoling...because Derek does so well at that.]
You know Scott better than I do, but I think we both know he won't stop until your dad's safe. He's gonna be fine.
[He'd help, he wants to help-- but Cora. She needed him.]
(ooc: also, because I was nosy and read Stiles and Lydia's thread, the code to change font is < font face="couier" > words here < /font >)
[There's just a hint of his mouth twitching, possibly return the smile as best he can, but there's not much else he can muster at the moment.]
I'm fine.
[A lie no doubt, he looks just as bad as Stiles. His younger sister's been hospitalized for an unknown reason and he's been betrayed by yet another woman he's fallen for way too quickly. He feels like he wants to break and tear into something, preferably bone and flesh.]
[He doesn't argue any more than that; sometimes the only defence a guy has is pretending that he's okay. Instead, he just leans in a little, not quite touching.]
Y'know, right when they were forcing all the kids to go to Guidance Counselling after Matt was found, Ms. Morell said something. I don't... trust her, like, at all, but it was actually pretty cool. Kinda helped.
She said 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' It's a quote from Winston Churchill. And, I mean, I wasn't too beat up about Matt, all things considered, but... now? Yeah, it's helping.
[The smile hardly reaches his eyes, fleeting in the time it's actually there. He's glad it's helping Stiles, but Derek has been living in hell for a very long time, it's his home now, and he sees no foreseeable exit anytime soon.]
[It's a little weird, how he checks out her house like it's some kind of museum, but she doesn't comment on it. His dad is missing, their English teacher is the Dark Druid, and not even Queen Bitch Lydia Martin has it in her to give him crap right now.
And there was that whole English Teacher Tried To Kill Her and Oh By The Way You're A Banshee thing that Lyds is still trying to cope with. Mainly by trying to pretend it didn't happen for a few few bleak hours.
So she guides him to the stairs, hoping he won't view going to her room as some kind of sacred pilgrimage.]
Sure. I mean, you're worried, you should be - I mean, it's natural. You probably aren't thinking about things like eating and drinking and just taking care of yourself.
[He follows her, less like the lost little puppy he would have been just a few months ago. He doesn't put Lydia on a pedestal any more, it's difficult to worship someone through rose-tinted glasses when you've been through as much shit with them as Stiles and Lydia have been through together.]
See, that's the thing. My attention is just... everywhere. All at once. It's almost kind of a good thing, because I have about twenty different tings to focus on, and I'm starting to think that my brain would just collapse if it was a normal brain. I remember to eat and drink, even if it just gives me something to keep my hands busy while my mind is freaking out. It's the sleeping that's not happening.
[Not that he came here to commiserate about his lack of sleep. Because hey, at least he's up to date on his homework.]
[And she does. A brain like hers grasps at problems and seeks solutions and worries about a hundred little things all at the same time, every day. Oh sure, usually she can keep it driven in the direction of "does this purse accessorize well with these shoes" and the latest trig assignment but the big problems, they're always in the back of Lydia's brain, as much as she might try to hide from them.
She's not thinking about the Banshee thing at all.
Her hand subconsciously strays to her throat; the strangulation bruise is a thin red rope around her neck. She turns it into a gesture toward her bed and an invitation to sit down.]
That won't do. I just figured - you might be going a little crazy. We can talk. Whatever. And if you fall asleep here, it's totally fine.
[He perches on the edge of her bed, still a little nervous.]
Talking is good. I think this is a definite cause for talking. I mean, I think I'm done freaking out, but there's still... it's like there's too much information to fit inside my head, and if I don't verbalise it, my head might actually split open.
[He laces his fingers together, over his knees, to physically stop them from jittering.]
Do you wanna talk about the whole... banshee thing, or the 'Our teacher kills people' thing, or skip straight ahead to the 'Derek has the worst taste in women ever' part?
[She does. Very badly. But at the same time, putting it into words makes it real and something Lydia has to acknowledge and while she can jury rig self-igniting molotov cocktails using the supplies in the chem lab at school, this is something she is not ready to process yet.
She watches his hands, the way they twitch. She has to suppress the urge to hold them, or put her hands on his shoulders, or his cheeks. She wants Stiles to be still. But she doesn't want him to misunderstand her intent.
She's not entirely sure of her own intent, really. All the more reason to keep her hands to herself. It's Stiles.]
My god, Derek does have the worst taste ever! The idea of him sticking his tongue in her mouth is going to want me to scrub my brain with bleach for weeks...and now you get to share in that joy. [Heh.]
I mean, seriously. I may have used the term 'catnip for deranged women' before, and I totally stand by it. I think it's the angst. It's gotta be the angst. And, you know.
[The fact that Derek is devastatingly good-looking means that he's kind of catnip for women in general.]
And she kissed my Dad. I've been saying I think it's time he gets back into the dating pool? I take it back.
[And now he's thinking about his Dad again. Great.]
[Stiles also wants to talk about how he's fairly sure he's never gonna get a passing grade in English, despite the fact he's actually pretty good at it, but. Lydia wants to talk about the twins.]
I... I don't know. I know they're working for Deucalion, part of his Pack, but...
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no subject
It's a quiet gesture of support he can return after receiving it himself after losing Boyd...]
Be strong. If not for you, then for him.
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Thanks.
[And it's barely a whisper, more of a croak, because he knows that whatever he's feeling, Derek's been through so much worse. Going through so much worse.]
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You know Scott better than I do, but I think we both know he won't stop until your dad's safe. He's gonna be fine.
[He'd help, he wants to help-- but Cora. She needed him.]
(ooc: also, because I was nosy and read Stiles and Lydia's thread, the code to change font is < font face="couier" > words here < /font >)
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You're right, we'll find him.
[He doesn't expect Derek to help, really. It's enough that he's there for moral support.]
...How are you?
(ooc: You're wonderful. -3-)
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I'm fine.
[A lie no doubt, he looks just as bad as Stiles. His younger sister's been hospitalized for an unknown reason and he's been betrayed by yet another woman he's fallen for way too quickly. He feels like he wants to break and tear into something, preferably bone and flesh.]
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[He doesn't argue any more than that; sometimes the only defence a guy has is pretending that he's okay. Instead, he just leans in a little, not quite touching.]
Y'know, right when they were forcing all the kids to go to Guidance Counselling after Matt was found, Ms. Morell said something. I don't... trust her, like, at all, but it was actually pretty cool. Kinda helped.
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She's counselor, not to mention an emissary, too. Not really surprised it was helpful.
[He glances to Stiles, a patient look that plainly says to continue with his story.]
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She said 'If you're going through hell, keep going.' It's a quote from Winston Churchill. And, I mean, I wasn't too beat up about Matt, all things considered, but... now? Yeah, it's helping.
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[The smile hardly reaches his eyes, fleeting in the time it's actually there. He's glad it's helping Stiles, but Derek has been living in hell for a very long time, it's his home now, and he sees no foreseeable exit anytime soon.]
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So, did you know that we're living on the Hellmouth?
Text
[This might be more for her than him, but it wouldn't be entirely untrue to say it wasn't for him at all.]
Re: Text (How did you get your text to do that?)
...Sure. Be there in five?
<font face="courier">Like this</font>
[She'll be waiting for his knock. Lydia's in sweat pants and a tee shirt. That's how Stiles will know shit has gotten real.]
<3
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I'd offer you coffee, but I think you'd climb the walls.
[The door is opened wider; a silent invitation for him to enter.]
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Yeah, I'm kinda a little... but hey. Thanks for the offer.
[He steps inside, glancing around. He's been in Lydia's house before, but the novelty doesn't wear off.]
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And there was that whole English Teacher Tried To Kill Her and Oh By The Way You're A Banshee thing that Lyds is still trying to cope with. Mainly by trying to pretend it didn't happen for a few few bleak hours.
So she guides him to the stairs, hoping he won't view going to her room as some kind of sacred pilgrimage.]
Sure. I mean, you're worried, you should be - I mean, it's natural. You probably aren't thinking about things like eating and drinking and just taking care of yourself.
no subject
See, that's the thing. My attention is just... everywhere. All at once. It's almost kind of a good thing, because I have about twenty different tings to focus on, and I'm starting to think that my brain would just collapse if it was a normal brain. I remember to eat and drink, even if it just gives me something to keep my hands busy while my mind is freaking out. It's the sleeping that's not happening.
[Not that he came here to commiserate about his lack of sleep. Because hey, at least he's up to date on his homework.]
no subject
[And she does. A brain like hers grasps at problems and seeks solutions and worries about a hundred little things all at the same time, every day. Oh sure, usually she can keep it driven in the direction of "does this purse accessorize well with these shoes" and the latest trig assignment but the big problems, they're always in the back of Lydia's brain, as much as she might try to hide from them.
She's not thinking about the Banshee thing at all.
Her hand subconsciously strays to her throat; the strangulation bruise is a thin red rope around her neck. She turns it into a gesture toward her bed and an invitation to sit down.]
That won't do. I just figured - you might be going a little crazy. We can talk. Whatever. And if you fall asleep here, it's totally fine.
no subject
Talking is good. I think this is a definite cause for talking. I mean, I think I'm done freaking out, but there's still... it's like there's too much information to fit inside my head, and if I don't verbalise it, my head might actually split open.
[He laces his fingers together, over his knees, to physically stop them from jittering.]
Do you wanna talk about the whole... banshee thing, or the 'Our teacher kills people' thing, or skip straight ahead to the 'Derek has the worst taste in women ever' part?
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I don't want to talk about the banshee thing.
[She does. Very badly. But at the same time, putting it into words makes it real and something Lydia has to acknowledge and while she can jury rig self-igniting molotov cocktails using the supplies in the chem lab at school, this is something she is not ready to process yet.
She watches his hands, the way they twitch. She has to suppress the urge to hold them, or put her hands on his shoulders, or his cheeks. She wants Stiles to be still. But she doesn't want him to misunderstand her intent.
She's not entirely sure of her own intent, really. All the more reason to keep her hands to herself. It's Stiles.]
My god, Derek does have the worst taste ever! The idea of him sticking his tongue in her mouth is going to want me to scrub my brain with bleach for weeks...and now you get to share in that joy. [Heh.]
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[He gags. Sharing is not always caring, Lydia.]
I mean, seriously. I may have used the term 'catnip for deranged women' before, and I totally stand by it. I think it's the angst. It's gotta be the angst. And, you know.
[The fact that Derek is devastatingly good-looking means that he's kind of catnip for women in general.]
And she kissed my Dad. I've been saying I think it's time he gets back into the dating pool? I take it back.
[And now he's thinking about his Dad again. Great.]
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The twins...and whoever else they're with. Do you know how they all fit into this?
[Because really, what Stiles wants to talk about is Ethan, and more to the point, Aidan. But she's trying, okay?]
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I... I don't know. I know they're working for Deucalion, part of his Pack, but...
[He glances away.]
They're not... as united as they seem. The twins.