How The Mighty Fall {Sequel to NOTH} *editing*

{7} Advice

Alice:

"Your room isn't as weird as I thought it would be." I speak up as the bedroom door swings open. His eyes widen as he lets out a terrified shriek and stumbles back into the hallway. You know, last time I went 'uninvited' into someone's house they actually tried to fight back. Not just fall flat on their ass.

I chuckle and walk over to the doorway. "Way to be subtle Stilinski." He looks up at me obviously surprised at my appearance, clutching at his chest.

"Ya well excuse me for not expecting someone in my bedroom when I'm home alone." He retorts, getting up off the floor.

"Well what'd you expect if your bedroom light is on." I quip, walking over to the desk chair and sitting on it. His lack of observation makes me wonder how he's still alive in this town.

"No by all means make yourself at home." He sarcastically grumbles.

"Already have." I gesture towards the cup on his desk. His mouth opens and shuts quickly, making one eye comically twitch.

"Okay first off how the hell did you get in my house?! And secondly why the hell are you even here?!" Stiles exclaims, wildly throwing his arms around. "Did you break in through my window." He quickly makes his way over to the window checking it over.

"I'm not a damn monkey, Stiles. I came in through your front door like the human being that I am." I reply before eating a spoonful of ice cream. He turns around with a baffled expression on his face making me let out an exasperated breath.

"Fine then, next time I'll make sure to climb in through your window. I'll even make sure you're actually in the room as a bonus." I remark, making his eyes go wide in fear.

"Are you eating my ice cream?" He questions, changing the subject.

I nod my head. "Yup, everything at my place only has artificial sweetener. You know most people just automatically assume that diabetics can never eat anything with sugar ever."

His facial expression calms down as he jams his hands into his pockets. "Ya I heard you had a pretty bad fall the other day. Are, uh, you better?" He asks.

"I'm assuming you know nothing about diabetes and how it's incurable?" I snap. He flinches back, awkwardly rubbing the nape of his neck. I sigh, placing the cup on the desk. "Not your fault, I've just been on edge since that day."

"And to answer your question no I haven't gotten better, it actually got worse." I answer. "And before you say 'I'm sorry', don't, I never needed anyone's pity and I don't need it now."

He nods his head before plopping down on the edge of his bed. "Um not to pry or anything. . .but you still haven't told me what your doing in my house."

"Oh ya about that. I need your help with something." I say.

"I'm not helping you kill someone or get rid of a dead body." He quickly stammers out. I glare at him, making him put is hands up in surrender.

"I can kill and get rid of a dead body all by myself thank you very much." I proudly retort.

"I don't think that's something you should be proud of." He points out. I wave him off, because clearly it is and he doesn't know what he's taking about.

"Anyway the reason why I'm hear is because I need to talk to someone and you're basically my last choice." I respond, leaning back on the chair.

He sends me an annoyed expression before saying. "So why not go bother all your other friends. Oh that's right you don't have any."