Save Them All: Stiles Stilinski's Rebirth

Earlier at the Clinic

A strawberry blonde, enters the building with a tiny Papillion in her hand. Unlike the usual pets that come into this place, the dog is surprisingly springy.

Making her way over to the reception, she is greeted by a shaggy looking guy with a crooked jaw. Sure, his goodlooking but his definitely not the type she would hang around with. I mean, she preferred the clean cut, well to do over the I ain't got no style just a everyday

teenager. Can you blame her? When you spend as much time taking care of yourself the way she does, you wouldn't want to be around others that didn't do the same or who even appreciated how much work it takes.

"Hey Lydia, what brings you here?" He asks

"The great shoe collection. What does it look like McCall?" Handing over Prada, she speaks in a blasé tone, "She's here for a check-up. How long is it going to take"

Scott shifts uncomfortably clearly somewhat threatened by her presence, "10… uh 15 minutes"

"Get to it" She orders which sends Scott into a spiral as he begins panicking

Following him into the observation area, it takes her only a moment to find herself bored enough with the others company before she starts looking at her phone.

The trainee vet begins petting and looking over Prada for a bit when his phone begins to vibrate.

After shaking for 3 or so seconds, she speaks up mildly annoyed with the sound of the vibration and the metal table meeting one another "Are you not got going to answer that?"

"Huh? Oh!"

Looking up from Prada, the guy turns around and finds his phone, answering it and furrowing his brows together. "Stiles? What's up, dude?"

'Stiles?' Lydia's ears perk up hearing the name.

"Sweet!" He replies to something before asking about pizza toppings.

The Papillion is unable to sit however as it begins fidgeting, "Hang on a second, I gotta put you on speakerphone." Scott says before listing a number of names she's familiar with, "Erica, Boyd, Allison, Danny. And Isaac?"

"Danny Mahealani?"

The voice from the phone speaks up, "Uh, yeah. Who's this?"

"Lydia Martin. Are you having a party? How many people are you inviting?" She directs the conversation eventually ending the way she wanted. Inviting herself over to his place. Why she's been so drawn to him lately she doesn't know. But she can't miss this opportunity.

As the call ends on an abrupt note, Scott speaks up for his friend "Wha… um. So That was weird" He speaks carefully trying not to mess up. "But he's always been sort of intuitive. Like that, I mean"

Lydia looks skeptical, "There is no such thing as a psychic. It's impossible to know the details about a person's life without substantive proof of a pattern" .

Immediately realising that she just slipped from her own mask, she reaches up to twirl a lock of hair around her finger. "Or something like that, I guess. Isn't his dad a cop? Stalking is a crime"

Hearing the girl who Stiles has been pining for since 3rd grade call him a stalker has severely offended Scott who snaps, "He isn't a stalker!"

"Then how did he know my favourite toppings?" Lydia smiles trying to control her temper, "My own boyfriend doesn't know how I prefer my pizza and we've been together for more than a year"

"It's called being observant" Scott answers sarcastically, "Not that you would know. Stiles and I have been in class with you since preschool and you probably couldn't even remember his name just now, could you? Knowing how someone prefers their pizza, well that's something that people tend to pick up on when they want to be your friend, but get ignored because they aren't popular enough to mingle with you"

He scoffs, murmuring under his breath as he attends to the dog again, "I don't know what he see's in her. He's way to good for such a …."

Gently setting Prada upright once more, he hands her over to Lydia before beginning to clean the equipment and putting it back in place "Prada's fine. Her weight is a little off, but only by a few pounds. Noting serious and nothing to worry about. Bring her in for another check-up, next month." Scott speaks gently as he looks at the fur ball before turning his attention back to the girl glaring at her, "Better drop her off at home, and go pick up your other dog if you're so intent on crashing our dinner"

"Hmmm" Lydia lightly not the least bit offended. If anything she prefers people who speak their mind in front of her rather than behind her back.

'If his friend is willing to protect him like this. Stiles must be ....pretty special.'

"You would refer to Jackson that way, wouldn't you? It's a bitchy thing to do, you know. But well like recognises like. But I think you are wrong on one thing though. Jackson isn't a Dog. With that haircut and the way you're so quick to snap at me. It's more surprising that you're not wearing a collar, yourself. " She smiles coldly, "I'll make sure to schedule the next appointment for one of your days off. See you at dinner. I'll make sure to bring you a treat. Woof… Woof" She tosses her hair and carries Prada out of the room.

Scott is left standing gritting his teeth, staring down at the counter. He'd been stupid to try and win a game of insults with Lydia. Much like Stiles, no one ever safely escapes their razor sharp tongues.

Inhaling deeply, he still can't understand where that bout of courage came from. Chuckling to no-one in particular. He breaks into a small smile.

'She really deserves the reputation of queen bitch … I hate to admit this but I think I'm going to start shipping Stydia from now on. They really are… so similar.

Are all geniuses ȧssholes or something?'

.........…...