"So you and this unidentified person that you're not going to tell me who it is sat in the hospital until Melissa McCall confirmed that Luis García would make it?"

"Yes."

"And that his unidentified person told you that Antonio Sebastian wished to harm Luis García because he... wouldn't DJ for his party?"

"Yes."

"You do realise that's unsubstantiated evidence."

"I'll get sheriff Stilinski the substantiated evidence." Violeta said. "I'm telling Noah Stilinski what happened last night."

"Could you then tell Noah Stilinski about this unidentified person."

"I would but like I said, they're unidentified. I wouldn't be able to tell you about them because I didn't identify them. I don't know them."

"Mac, you spent the better part of the night with them. You said you washed their car."

"Soz not soz." Violeta said. Upon arriving at the traffic light which lead to the intersection in which she would take the right then walk two blocks and then take a left and cross the street to arrive at school, she decided now was the best time to end the call. "Look, I gotta go. Keep it in mind."

"I always do." Stilinski said. "Be, uh, safe."

She hung up and did the usual routine of clearing her history and turning her phone and sending a swift prayer to God that she wouldn't suffer anything from this because, as she prayed, no one would ever find out. "Amen." She said. Usually, protocol dictates that she would probably have to be interviewed by the police to sort out the ongoing investigation that would be How Luis García Got Shot. Except, as their arrangement worked, Violeta helped him with the business on the down low and the business would never make it to the books. It was very risky, such as this, as the Sheriff had often remarked how he didn't feel so comfortable getting the credit for the 'anonymous tipoffs' and pieces of evidence just landing in his lap.

Violeta always hung up whenever he'd began talking like that.

Come to think about it, she was always the one hanging up in their phone calls.

She came to the intersection. Usually, people would offer her rides to school. While she didn't mind walking, there were times where she agreed just to not cause offence and ensure that she was on good terms with many people.

Now, after what happened last night, as per usual after a drive by, many a 'fuck that' attitude at the prospect of school and decided playing hoops or sitting around to drink and smoke and yell about how esés need to stop shooting n shit. She, however, couldn't do such thing.

Her thoughts were interrupted by horrible music blasting from a car. She heard the wailing and DOOF DOOF DOOF of the latest pop single hit that made Violeta cringe and worry about the future of music. It was when the blue Jeep stopped at the red light and she saw Stiles nodding his head to the pop song that she reassessed her... relations with the boy.

She made no move to cross the street when Stiles began full dancing. He swung his head from side to side and clicked his fingers. He sang along and pointed at random directions as the song began to sing "LOVE YOU, YOU, YOU, YOU!" and with each "you" point at nonexistent people at the intersection... until the last 'YOU' where his finger landed on a pair of Adidas track pants and Jordan hoodie.

"YOU-Oh my God!" Stiles all but jumped and scrambled to turn down the music. Yet he somehow stuffed that up and turned it louder. Then turned the stations, rapid fire French rap coming on, a slow song in Korean sounding through his speakers before he managed to turn it completely off.

Violeta had just stared at him.

The pedestrian lights had switched green and the sounds had going off, signalling that she could cross. However, the son of the man she'd just been speaking to began rolling down the car window closest to her. With a sigh, she resigned to not crossing the street and walking over as Stiles loudly called out to her.

"Uh, oh. Hey! Hey Violeta! Didn't, uh, see you there!" Stiles greeted as she bit her bottom lip to keep her face straight. She failed. Epically.

"Really into the song, huh?"

"What song? That? Oh, no. It was just playing. Never heard it before. Have you heard it? I haven't." He laughed a nervous laugh once more and Violeta shook her head. "Do you need a lift?" He then asked. The amusement fell from her face as she thought about his question. How would it look— Violeta Rodriguez getting a ride to school by the infamous shitty blue Jeep of the Sheriff's son. Sure, she doubted they would be any of the crew at school but word get's round.

But she was tired. So incredibly tired. By the time she felt like she could leave the hospital, it was already hella late. Then she had to clean Boyd's mother's car which, granted, didn't take as long since Boyd helped out. By then, it was well after two o'clock but then Boyd invited her for a hot chocolate as a way of thanks. She wanted to go home but she could feel his loneliness and accepted, thinking it was the least she could since he did help out with Luis. Not to mention, she doubted Boyd would feel comfortable going to sleep after such an ordeal. So she kept him company until about four o'clock when his mother got home for work and Violeta walked to her own.

She only managed a sole hour of sleep before she had to get up to shower, get ready, clean the house, visit her grandma who was still asleep when she saw her and have enough time to walk to school. Had it not been for Boyd telling her he'd see her at school tomorrow (and keeping an eye on the soberdenatural business) she would've gladly ditched with everyone else.

So here she was, trudging her way to the pitiful excuse for an education establishment.

And she was being offered a ride.

"Yeah, thanks." She walked around and Stiles leaned over to open the door for her. She got in and pulled her hood down and dug her hands deep into the front pockets of her gigantic hoodie.

Stiles, on the other hand, couldn't believe she had actually accepted. He had only expected her to maybe scoff, laugh even? Then stalk off from him and he'd once again be reminded that this girl was Violeta Rodriguez and was beyond him in every way possible.

But she had accepted. He had unlocked the car door for her and watched her climb in, her movements sluggish. He made no comment about how tired she looked. As she pulled down her hood, he saw the dark bags under her eyes, the slumped way she sat and the general representation of how he had felt numerous times, going to school after pulling an all-nighter researching supernatural business.

He wanted to ask, but knew he was in no place. So, instead, he said the first thing that came to his mind when he saw her sitting in the passenger seat of his Jeep.

"Aren't you, uh, going to put your seat belt on?"

Violeta blinked and remembered that some still abided by safety rules. She nodded and turned to bring it down and clip to the buckle by her hip. Stiles cleared his throat and pushed the gear stick by him and Violeta realised his Jeep was manual.

"Didn't know this Jeep was manual."

"Oh, yeah, my dad he-uh, he taught me in one of his cruisers." Stiles said, hating that he was stuttering. However he was so surprised at her comment and the fact that she would've only made a comment if she wanted to have some sort of conversation.

He kept this in mind when she said, "It's more fun." He hummed in agreement and thought about the fundamentals of conversation making and how people keep talking to one another. Comment, comment. Question, answer, elaborate if need. Question in return.

"You drive?" He questioned.

"Not really. I mean, I don't have a car or license but I work sometimes at the shop." Her voice trailed off when she made the connection that it was Luis' dad, Carlos, who owned the shop.

"So you can fix my Jeep rather than me getting ripped off by mechanics?" He blurted, his mind already beginning the calculations of how much money you'd save.

She shrugged. Stiles grinned to himself and nodded, apparently having just scored something valuable. Then Violeta frowned, "Who rips you off?" She asked with a laugh, thinking of Stiles and how much he would know about cars. "I don't see you at, uh, Carlos'?"

"Nah, I got to one near the station-"

"Oh yeah that guy would definitely rip you off." Violeta said, instantly recalling that murky mechanic who she often heard Carlos sit around and insult in Spanish. "Carlos hates him." She laughed, thinking about all the times he'd gotten angry and started swearing about his rival. Carlos was known for fixing cars and his colourful vocabulary.

"Yeah, I would uh go to Carlos but, um, the other guy is c-closer." Stiles' stuttered. And it was his stuttering that explained his lie. Well, it wasn't an outright - he might've been closer, she didn't know where the boy lived. But she knew the reason he didn't go to Carlos was because he was intimidated.

"If you insult the other guy, Carlos will treat you as one of his closest friends." Violeta defended her boss, knowing that many of Beacon Hills were afraid to come to Carlos because of the 'people' who hung around his shop. Her people. So Violeta added, hoping to appease the boy, "And if Carlos knows you're friends with me, he'll only charge for parts."

"Oh, so we're friends?" Stiles challenged, an easy going look on his face. A look that dropped when Violeta was silent and curled her hand into a fist. "Relax, I'm kidding. You've, uh, you've seen me dance so I think it constitutes us as friends." He said. "Also, you stopped me from getting beaten up at Kenny's."

"They are just... defensive. My parents were well loved and everyone in... the community feels an, uh, obligation to... look out. For me." She explained. Stiles nodded.

"So... are you, like, uh, a part of um, like the - " Stiles couldn't believe he had actually blurted that out and rapidly thought of a way out from the gigantic hole he'd just dug himself. It didn't help that Violeta also shifted slightly in her seat, facing him with a raised eyebrow, a clear challenge the finish the question, "er, you know... gangs."

She turned in her seat and stared hard at him. Stiles soon realised he'd stuffed up. Especially when she started talking. "Could you define what you mean? I have a Baskin and Robbin's membership card, does that make me a part of their gang?" She asked, her sarcasm only thinly veiling her contempt at Stiles question. "What if I was a part of some online gaming community that battles mythical creatures?"

"Are you?!"

Violeta paused, not expecting that question. It was then that she saw the excitement on the boy's face. "I am too! I used to play Wow, you know, World of Warcraft, yeah I used to play that a lot but then I moved onto Skyrim and I'm close to clocking eight hundred hours which isn't a lot but I only got it last year and—"

Violeta tuned out the boy's rambling. She had been so close to demanding Stilinski's son to park and let her out. The comment about her gang life was something that yes, she had gotten a lot and usually it didn't bother her. However, on only one hour of sleep, after experiencing the events of last night, she had felt the anger in her charging and about to unleash on the innocent Stiles who had naively asked that question.

She was unable to comprehend how she had gotten here, listening to Stiles Stilinski tell her about all of his characters, their names, abilities, levels and the achievements and missions he'd done.

Violeta had let the boy ramble, not even wanting to stop him. His rapid fire speech was oddly soothing as she kept her hands snug in her hoodie and stared out the window. Mentions of random bits of online gaming jargon slipped in and it reminded her that there were other things — human, ordinary things — going on.

"We should play together! Go on a mission or something!"

"What are you talking about?" Realising that he had actually stopped talking, awaiting a response from her.

"You said you were a part of some online gaming community that battles mythical creatures."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"No." She repeated. "You asked me if I was in a gang and I said what if."

"Oh." Stiles said, his mouth dropping to a small 'o'. He looked at the clock on his dash and saw that ten whole minutes had passed. She had let him ramble for ten minutes. He looked back at her and managed to get out a small apology.

"Don't be." She said with a resigned sigh. "And if you need a direct answer to the question you so eloquently put... how about this: I know a lot of people from those circles and a lot of people from those circles are associated with the reputation."

"I heard someone was shot last night." Stiles began, not realising what his words were doing to the girl next to him "I, uh heard the noises on the phone and the call ended and I assumed..." Violeta crossed her arms and looked outside the window, "...nothing! Because I, uh..." He continued to awkwardly stammer as Violeta remained quiet and did nothing. After a while, he sighed. He was beginning to realise just what topics he could discuss with her and which ones were very much off the table.

So far, he'd come with this:

Anything supernatural was a (somewhat) good to go!

Anything to do with Violeta or her personal life was a don't even go there.

Still, Stiles couldn't not think about it. Even if they didn't have their phone conversation and Violeta hadn't reacted like she did and he didn't eavesdrop on his dad this morning, Stiles knew Violeta had been involved with last night's shooting.

He only wished he knew how he could take her mind off it.

In the silence that ensued from him sticking his foot in it, he reflected on how he'd somehow come to driving Violeta Rodriguez to school. This was the same girl people stepped aside for; she was sitting in an enclosed space with him.

He glanced at her and took in the slumped over shoulders and the way she kept rubbing her eyes. He fully took in the black Adidas track pants that Stiles' knew was from the men's section because he had the same pair. Her hoodie looked old but very comfy and snug. Today, instead of those cool, colourful high-tops Stiles had often seen her wearing, she had on some simple Converse.

She dressed the same, looked the same. Yet, Stiles could feel there was something different. Even in her tired state, there was something slightly... more about Violeta. That was the only way he could what he felt emanating from her into words.

It was a feeling he searched his brain for a way to help ease. Thinking back to the boundaries he had set out after the whole 'gang' fiasco, he tried again.

"Scott's taking out Allison on a proper date and he wants me there." Stiles said, hoping to go back to their conversation last night. He felt his heart leap when she actually spoke, feeling a lot more open and approachable than before when she had just... shut off.

"To third-wheel?" Violeta asked, turning her attention back at him.

"Well, Lydia is going to be there." He said, feeling giddy at the thought. Talk about coming far; he was going on a date with Lydia! Funny how he'd only thought about that now today. The first thing he'd actually thought about this morning when he got out of bed to brush his teeth and shower was if Violeta was okay from yesterday's reported shootings.

"Oh." The girl in question said and shifted back. Stiles blinked, wondering what he'd said that was making her slowly shut off again.

"You should come!"

Violeta blinked and stared at Stiles, and if he could've, Stiles would've stared at Stiles too. Where did that come from? He himself was invited after he begged Scott. This was his one shot with Lydia and he needed to be focused and since Scott and Allison would undeniably be all over each other, it would mean that Lydia would have to talk to him.

So why was he inviting Violeta? To what? To come and--

"And fifth wheel?" She scoffed with a laugh. She didn't say anything else but it was clear to Stiles what her answer was.

With the look she gave him, he was suddenly remembered their differing social standards and how Violeta Rodriguez was more out of his league than, well, Lydia Martin. Violeta Rodriguez was not just another league but an entire another game. The look she had given him, the laugh, it was everything he'd expected her to do this morning when he offered a lift to school.

Besides, he was just a dorky kid kid who loved Star Wars and cult films and wore t-shirts that had science jokes and didn't even get to play the sport he tried so hard for. And Coach Finstock was always saying how if they had Violeta on the team, they would win every game they played. Today, he wore a shirt with a cake that said you want a piece of me? that he found hilarious. She was wearing classic street-wear.

Stiles looked down at his feet and felt something jolt in him when he saw the classic black and white converse on his feet. The same shoes the girl sat beside him was currently wearing.

Relax dumbass, millions of people have these shoes.

And millions also wore Batman shirts. Still... there was something Stiles was bound to have in common with her. Taking a quiet, steading breath, he tried to start another conversation.

"Have you seen Pulp Fiction?"

"What?"

"Pulp Fiction..." Stiles said, feeling awkward at the randomness of his question. But he had just watched it last night and was reminded that there was boxing in it and he'd seen her with gloves that one time in the gym and somehow that made him blurt it out and it was too late now.

He had to go with it and commit.

"By Tarantino." He added. "Quentin Tarantino. He's a—"

"Yes, Stiles, I've seen Pulp Fiction." She said. "And yes, I know who Tarantino is."

"Oh. Okay. Good." Stiles cleared his throat and re-adjusted himself in his seat, feeling very, very stupid at that train wreck of a conversation.

Violeta sighed and Stiles looked over in surprise. She looked defeated. "He's probably my favourite director but I wouldn't say Pulp Fiction is my favourite film. Yes, it's brilliant and Samuel L. Jackson deserved an Oscar for it but I liked Inglorious Basterds better because it still had multiple story-lines but I felt he delved into his characters better. Also the fact that 3/4s of it are in a language other than English yet is another plus in my book. Oh, and the Hugo Stiglitz sequence was beautifully done."

Stiles' almost swerved into the sidewalk at hearing her speak about films. She was... She knew... She was...

"...You're a film buff." He said with a voice of awe.

"You could say that."

"Okay top three favourite films of all time?"

"Friday. Fight Club. Ferris Bueller's Day Off."

They were all cult films.

"Have you read Fight Club?" He asked.