𝗧𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗬𝗢𝗨 ── 𝘚.𝘚𝘛𝘐𝘓𝘐𝘕𝘚𝘒𝘐

♡ 𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗥𝗧𝗬-𝗘𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧 ♡

♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 thirty-eight

and where have you been?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

DALLAS GARCIA STOOD outside her father's medical room. With a flask of coffee in her hand and her jacket draped over her arm, she furrowed her eyebrows at his empty bed. The flowers on his table had started to wither away and a handful of petals had already fallen all over his cards - and letter?

She took the moment to step inside and lay eyes on the unusual crumpled-up letter. The siren took it upon herself to unravel the paper and gloss her eyes over its letters. 

"Sending you my love." she mumbled out, "Recover soon." her eyes then dropped to the large white space that occupied the bottom of the page. No signature. 

"No, I hold no ill-will towards the station. Noah," James murmured behind her into his phone. "Yeah, I'll be back soon enough."

He glanced up and stared at the girl who had her back turned to him while she re-read the letter with a confused expression lacing her face. "Marilyn?"

That was what caused her to finally turn to him. "What?" Dallas spoke out between parted lips. She tucked her hair behind her ear and let her hands drop to her sides, still clutching the paper.

That was when James Garcia realised his mistake and cleared his throat. "Sorry. Long day. I wasn't expecting you today?"

She nodded along but her eyes still held a tint of suspicion. "Oh, I brought you some coffee." she lifted up the flask with a wide grin. "I know from personal experience how much hospital food sucks."

He let out a huff of relief and took the flask from her hands. "Thank god. I was certain I'd go crazy." James then set down the flask beside his worksheets that he had transferred from his home-office. Most had already been sent back to the station, however, the lawyer had insisted he'd be fine enough to at least overlook cases. Dallas noticed how he still seemed to let out small grunts of pain every now and then, also trading out his trademark suits for much comfier clothes. 

James attempted to steer the conversation away from his slip-up. "Considering since you're here, I'm gonna assume all that business with that.. thing is done?"

Dallas rolled her eyes. "I don't know if you're referring to the Nogitsune or just Stiles in general." she took a glimpse at his patient expression. "Yeah, it's gone. Scott sent it packing himself with a little help from yours truly."

 "Something tells me Stiles is gonna be avoiding me?" 

Dallas frowned. "Go easy on him, okay?" she took a step forward. "He still hates himself over it."