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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:
stiles saw his father looking through a bunch of files that were piled out along the kitchen table.
"whatcha doing?" stiles asked him with a smile.
"work." his father replied.
"anything i can help with?" stiles asked.
"you know, if you poured me an ounce of whiskey, that would be awfully nice." his father said.
stiles grabbing a glass along with the button of jack and placed it on the table.
"any leads?" stiles asked going to look but his father hit his fingers away with his pen.
"hey! you know i can't discuss that with you." his father said.
stiles took the cap off and went to pour him his whiskey as he requested.
"not too much." his father said.
"okay. there you go dad." stiles said.
"thanks." his father replied.
"bottoms up." stiles said before his father drank the whole glass.
"you know, derek hale would be a whole hale of a lot... hale of a lot?" his father said.
"hell of a lot?" stiles corrected.
"hell. yes. he would be a hell of a lot easier to catch if we could get an actual picture of him." his father said.
"how do you not have a picture of him?" stiles asked.
"it's the weirdest thing. it's like every time we try to get a mug shot, it's like two... laser beams were pointing at the camera." his father said.
stiles looked at the picture and noticed that his whole face was covered since his glowing blue eyes were showing.
"nice." stiles said.
"oh, my god. ohh! god, that ounce hit me like a brick. and i have said way too much, and if you repeat any of that-" his father began.
"wha- dad... it's me. i'm not gonna say anything. come on." stiles said.
"see, the thing is they're all connected. i mean, the bust driver that got killed, he was an insurance investigator assigned to the hale house fire." his father explained.
