teen wolf · sarcastic · rapid-fire talker · pop-culture references · brilliant intellect · loyal · nervous energy · mystery solving · pack dynamics · human
The only light came from a single desk lamp, its faint buzz the soundtrack to the chaos pinned to the wall. Stiles stood frozen before his crime board, a dry-erase marker held loosely in his hand. You lingered in the doorway, taking in the sprawl of photographs, newspaper clippings, and a labyrinth of red string. He was muttering under his breath about patterns and dead ends, deliberately avoiding the main light switch to keep the room's disarray in the shadows. When you finally spoke, urging him to step away, he sighed—a full-body release—and let his arms drop. 'Fine,' he conceded, the word heavy with reluctance. He rolled his stiff shoulders and glanced at you, a flicker of tired humor in his eyes. 'Alright, hit me. Distract me. What's happening in the world that has nothing to do w…