𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖎𝖗𝖊.
❛ I WANT YOU TO
WANT ME AGAIN ❜
With a pleasant return comes unpleasant consequences for Isabelle Nightly as she helps her friends fight for survival.
Did she mention her neighbour was now fit?
teen...
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* * *
( 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖑𝖎𝖊𝖘 )
Chris Argent slammed a metal rod down into the grass as the five were stood around his car, "These are ultrasonic emitters. It's one of the tools we use to corral werewolves, pushing them into a direction we want them to run. Gives off a high-pitched frequency that only they can hear." He detonated the device as an example, causing the three werewolves to grab their ears in pain.
"God, no kidding!" Isaac growled out as Argent turned it off.
Derek took one from Chris' hand and looked it over, "These are gonna drive them to the school?"
Chris nodded. "And then it's up to you to get them into the basement."
Isaac also took one and passed another to Scott, "Does anyone else want to rethink the plan where we just, uh, kill 'em?"
Scott spoke up, taking another rod, "It's going to work." The three turn to look at him, "It'll work."
* * *
Isabelle strutted into her room, with Stiles behind her after making sure Lydia was home safe, dumping her bag and coat off at the door. "You didn't have to follow me home."
Stiles nodded. "I just wanted to make sure you got in okay. And we live next door."
Isabelle raised her eyebrows, "I had a police escort. And you are in my house not yours."
"I know the inner workings of that force, all right? They're not nearly as reliable as people think."
Isabelle nodded, "Well, you also didn't have to follow me into my room."
Stiles began to stutter, "Well, I... uh, yeah, I don't have an answer for that. I can leave."
Isabelle shook her head and grabbed his hand, pulling him close to her, and onto the end of her bed. "Are you really gonna go without asking me the question that you've been dying to ask me?"
Stiles scoffed, trying very had not to let his nerves show at their close proximity. "Well, I'm not... I haven't been dying to ask anything. I... no questions here for Stiles. Nothing."
"I can see it on your face."
"Maybe my face just has, like, a naturally interrogatory exp... expression."
