EIGHT LETTERS || Liam Dunbar [2]

THIRTY EIGHT

"Why do I have to be the nice one?" Katherine groaned, slouching in the passenger seat of the jeep with the wind drifting through the open window and across her face. She had her arms folded over her chest carefully to avoid further injury to her 90% healed wrist and a half eaten pop-tart sitting on her thigh so she could purposely sprinkle crumbs on her seat if Stiles annoyed her.

After roughly fifteen minutes of bickering, the pack agreed to take part in the plan then split off into groups to get what they needed. Malia and Kira left for the school to practice removing enough electricity from a power source to cause a brown out; Scott and Liam went to the hospital to meet Melissa in order to grab body bags, and Katherine had left with Stiles in order to convince Parrish to be their get-away driver.

He'd been cleared by Melissa, which was enough for her to be fully convinced he'd make a perfect candidate to get them out of the inevitably crappy situation they were going to end up in.

"Because you have a nice-person-face," Stiles huffed irritably, as if he wasn't sure why they were even having the conversation in the first place. "You can at least to pretend to be nice to people, but I...I don't have the patience for that, okay? My patience is dangerously low today."

"We're literally related, Stiles," Katherine snapped as he pulled into the Station's parking lot. She took an aggressive bite off her pop-tart. "We have the same patience level." Crumbs tumbled out of her mouth as she spoke and fell onto her lap, and she internally smirked in victory as the inner corner of his right eye twitched with irritation. "The only difference is I swear more than you do," she huffed.

"Which you can hold in," he argued, twisting the upper half of his body so he could look her in the eye. "We both know I can't do that."

She paused, pulling her lips over to one corner, then she finally groaned and dropped her head back. "Fine, but only because it's for Lydia," she grumbled.

Stiles clapped once triumphantly, but switched back to business. "Alright, so here's what we're doing. I'll tell him the plan, you wait around just in case you don't have to be all sweet and nice about it. But if he says no, you bring out the puppy eyes, got it?"

"Done," she nodded once.

They slapped their hands together in a high five, then stepped out of the car. When they were inside, thankfully it had been Parrish who was left on desk duty — their Dad was truly a smart man — and the other officers had all been sent out to search for the Beast, though they didn't know that's what it was.

The moment he saw them, Parrish seemed to know that whatever they needed him for, it wouldn't be legal, because he groaned. "Just hear me out, okay?" Stiles waved him off, and continued on anyway.

As her brother explained the plan, she watched the Deputy carefully for any signs he'd disagree. She'd gotten bored one night and had spent hours browsing through articles on behavioural psychology, figuring it would come in handy if she did end up perusing a career in law enforcement. If she didn't, she'd just be really good at body language.

"That's the worst plan I've ever heard," was the first thing he said as soon as he had the chance to say something, sliding back the car keys he'd been given at the start of the conversation thought the gap in the plexiglass screen at the front desk.

Stiles, clearly disgruntled, tilted his head back slightly and flailed his arms as he tried to change his mind. "Okay, the plan is perfect and it'll work perfectly, especially if you agree to drive the van," he huffed, sliding the keys right back.

Parrish glanced at them skeptically. "Is the Sheriff on board with this?"

"How do you think I got the keys?" Stiles scoffed, his expression clearly reading duh.