Snape’s breathing was shallow. “Her boy survives,” said Dumbledore. With a tiny jerk of the head, Snape seemed to flick off an irksome fly. “Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and colour of Lily Evans’s eyes, I am sure?” “DON’T!” bellowed Snape. “Gone…dead…” “Is this remorse, Severus?” “I wish…I wish I were dead…”
In which Stiles learns to Stalk That Stalk. (Or, how to accidentally woo your unfriendly neighborhood alpha in roughly five hundred handwritten steps.)
Shit. What do you write inside a fake ticket meant to briefly mislead a slightly unhinged werewolf into deep annoyance? Stiles is pretty sure, “Ahahahahahaha” is not appropriate, and 100% certain that, “For reasons I cannot even explain to myself, you’ve kind of been a recurring feature in my ongoing journey of sexual discovery since the first time I laid eyes on you,” will not go over well. Hmm. Decisions, decisions.
Eventually, he writes, “Gotcha!” and walks back over to the car, shoving the fake ticket under the left windshield wiper with satisfaction. It’s not much better than “Ahahahahaha,” but it’s a significant improvement on the other option, so Stiles is going to count it as a win. He goes back to the cruiser, meets his father coming the other way, and mostly forgets about it. Hopefully it’ll at least cause some mild intrigue at some point, unless (please, please, please, please) something else comes up.