[Allison doesn't answer right away, turning back to Lydia's bureau to find her camisoles for approval...and to hide as her smile dies a little. It's not like she's upset. She's not, she's genuinely not upset by her little revelation about Scott. He's found someone, it's good. And, if Allison is right, Lydia is finally seeing reason and Stiles is going to get his happy ending, the one the Nogitsune wanted to steal from him.
And she's alone again. Not alone, just...alone. And she wouldn't be if she had more vision, if she hadn't ever let herself be a pawn in someone else's game. She wouldn't be what she is now, the one her pack needs...the jaws of the pack, stained in blood and ready for every unspeakable deed so the mind, the heart, and the soul can survive...
But she could have kept Scott.
So she takes a subtle, deep breath, and finds one camisole, this one a pale pink. Tugging it out of the drawer, she held it up for Lydia's approval, smiling again when she turned around.
It's a stubbed toe. Sandpaper on skin...a slip of the knife in the kitchen. It hurts, but it will fade. Scar tissue can be sensitive...she'll be fine.]
I am worried. I don't trust you. [She says it sweetly, avoiding discussion of her own outfit because it doesn't matter, because she isn't trying to be pretty for anyone.] C'mon...you think the shade goes with the pink in the pajama pants?
BFF Spam!
And she's alone again. Not alone, just...alone. And she wouldn't be if she had more vision, if she hadn't ever let herself be a pawn in someone else's game. She wouldn't be what she is now, the one her pack needs...the jaws of the pack, stained in blood and ready for every unspeakable deed so the mind, the heart, and the soul can survive...
But she could have kept Scott.
So she takes a subtle, deep breath, and finds one camisole, this one a pale pink. Tugging it out of the drawer, she held it up for Lydia's approval, smiling again when she turned around.
It's a stubbed toe. Sandpaper on skin...a slip of the knife in the kitchen. It hurts, but it will fade. Scar tissue can be sensitive...she'll be fine.]
I am worried. I don't trust you. [She says it sweetly, avoiding discussion of her own outfit because it doesn't matter, because she isn't trying to be pretty for anyone.] C'mon...you think the shade goes with the pink in the pajama pants?