"Sorry, Lahey, but I'm more of a cat person."
Vera Pérez is no stranger to the supernatural. Growing up alongside the Hale family has kept her fairly well-informed about the creatures that lurk in the darkness. However, she didn't become one of thos...
┌─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┐ chapter twenty-five! AS THE CEILING CAVES IN └─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───┘
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( lunar eclipse, pt. ii )
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
VERA CAN FEEL Isaac's nervous energy as they ride up the elevator with Scott and Allison to the Argent's apartment. Her already hyperactive mind fixates on the unsteady tapping of his index finger against the back of his opposite hand, along with the way he slightly sways as he rocks back and forth on his heels. Before they'd gotten inside, she'd offered to take the stairs with him, but he'd insisted that he'd be fine.
The four of them are heading to the apartment to grab some of Mr. Argent's clothes for Scott and Isaac to track him with. Scott had already gotten something of his mother's, and Stiles is currently on the phone with him about what he should bring.
"Just grab anything," Scott tells him as they spill out into the hallway. "Stiles, I'm not smelling your dad's boxers. ...Socks? Okay, I'll smell the socks."
"What about me?" Isaac inquires.
Allison unlocks the door — one of the first ones on the left — and pushes it open, allowing them inside. "See what you can find in my dad's closet. Anything with the strongest scent."
Vera has been here plenty of times since they'd moved, so she's familiar with where Argent's room is. She jerks her head toward it in indication for the boys to follow, but freezes when she hears voices coming from a room Allison had just opened.
"Quite an arsenal your father's got here, young lady," a man says. Vera vaguely recognizes the voice. When Scott pops into the doorframe, he's greeted. "Scott."
It's rare to see Scott angry, but something dark passes over his face and his uneven jaw clenches at the sight of whoever's inside. "What are you doing here?"
"Following one of the only leads I have. Now, since I don't know where you've been, why don't you have a seat, and we can talk? You too, Isaac."
Isaac pokes his head into the room. "How do you know my name?"
"There's still one more," the man muses, ignoring the question. "Let me guess. Lydia? Vera?"
Vera tosses her head toward the ceiling in the most dramatic eye-roll in existence, then reluctantly peers around Isaac. The FBI agent that had spoken to Stiles at school is standing behind Argent's desk with about a trillion weapons stacked onto the oak table. Two deputies flank either side of him, but he's clearly the one in charge. He's tall, with his dark hair gelled and expression full of disappointment. There's something slightly familiar about his facial features that Vera can't pinpoint.
