Clueless + Pointless

perseused:

She uses him as a messenger, at first.

“Stiles isn’t exactly on speaking terms with Scott right now,” Allison explains as she paces around in Isaac’s room, a glorified closet in a nook of Derek’s new loft. “And I can’t do it.  For, well, obvious reasons.”

Isaac crooks an eyebrow at her.  ”You can’t tell your ex-boyfriend important information because you think he hates you?  Or, because you hate him?”

Allison purses her lips.  ”More like he doesn’t hate me enough.  If I see him, if we’re alone… we’ll fall back into old patterns.”  Allison unsheathes a knife from her side-holster and twirls it around in the twilit room.  Isaac shudders at the sight of it subtly, remember the same blade piercing his back just four months ago.  ”And I don’t want that for either of us right now.”

Isaac watches her hastily put the knife away.  ”Sorry, I didn’t mean—” she begins.

“‘S alright,” Isaac says, waving away her apology.  He leans back on his elbows, a wide sprawl of teenage boy.  He allows himself to wonder about old patterns for a brief second before adding, “So how can I help?”

Allison smiles widely for a moment and then drops her backpack to the ground in front of her feet, unzipping it quickly.  ”He’ll need this—” she says, tossing Isaac a vial of what smells like mountain ash, but in liquid form, “and the twins will be on a scouting expedition next weekend, so that’ll be the best time to strike the motel.  My dad is more than willing to help, so if Scott needs some human back-up, he can call the house, or something.”  Isaac pockets the vial just as Allison tosses a book older than Beacon Hills into his lap.  It showers dust upon his feet and Isaac can’t help but cough.

“You make sure Scott gets that,” Allison demands.  She tilts her head in thought.  ”Actually, you make sure Scott makes sure Stiles gets that.  Actually, just give it to Stiles.”

“Anything else?” Isaac asks, a little overwhelmed at the whirlwind of a girl standing in his bedroom.  He looks down at the cover of the text, which has been inscribed with a triskelion.

“I’m putting my number in your phone,” Allison says from Isaac’s desk.  Isaac is startled.  ”For updates.”  Allison rolls her eyes.  ”This is me giving you my number in the most professional sense.”

“Okay,” Isaac says weakly.

“Okay,” Allison says.

Isaac still fist pumps the moment she leaves.

*

Read More