A casual lopsided smirk started to emerge on Cora’s face as her visual shifted to outside the building and the view that met her. Salvatore’s beautiful Camaro was situated further down the street.
“Brae, you sly dog you….”
Amusement flickered in her dark hues before she rolled her eyes playfully and let out a chuckle.
“A steak out, really?…c’mon…now that is cheesy….but yeah…I’m definitely down for a pub crawl.”—seeing how she couldn’t get drunk, may as well get a fight or two out of it.
She was just about to lean forward with her elbows on the table and suggest they make a move soon, when Stiles was suddenly there and seemingly making himself comfortable in the spare seat. For a moment she raised a slender brow and just shot him the usual unimpressed look. Yet the youngest Hale had got used to Stiles’ ways lately and didn’t care to admit she quite liked him.
“Take a seat, Stiles why don’t ya…..”
Her words dripped with sarcasm, but not in any nasty context at all, in fact, she was slightly amused, especially when she caught Braeden’s expression.
She would never get used to that phrase. Luckily now though she was just playing around with him and knew what it meant.
“Braeden…this is Stiles. He ain’t backwards at coming forwards…and Stiles…this is Braeden–another one not to upset too much if you know what’s good for you.”
Seconds –milliseconds– away from grabbing the kid by his wrist and twisting until he was kneeling on the ground beside the table, Cora’s greeting stopped her from an aggravated assault charge. The familiarity in her tone gave her pause, it was her amusement that made Braeden relax back in her seat. While she didn’t move her piercing glare from the gangly man at their table, the sharp edge to her stare was more assessing than threatening.
Clearly Cora liked the kid enough to welcome him to the table instead of telling him to fuck off. Question of questions was why.
When the wolf asked Stiles how what was hanging, Braeden chimed in with a flat, “I think he’s implying you have a penis, Cor.” Hand none too discretely grabbing the steak knife by the handle, her unwavering leer kept his gaze captive to hers. “You implying my girl has a penis?”
She angled her chair, leaned forward to grab the bottom of his seat, and dragged him closer to her with a loud scrape on the polished hardwood floor that drew a few gazes. Steak knife jabbed point first into the table, Braeden’s voice was a low, menacing purr when she suggested, “I could give her yours, if you’re so curious.”
Holding his gaze for several heartbeats, Braeden allowed a slow, rapacious smirk to unravel over her lips. She looked exhaled a laugh and eased back into her seat before dropping the knife onto the table. Braeden peered over at Cora and her smirk widened, an eyebrow rose as she waited for her best friend’s reaction.
An introduction was haphazardly made and Braeden’s gaze was drawn back onto Stiles. Brows furrowed as she inspected him closely. “Stiles,” repeated Braeden, testing the name, searching her mind for that niggling something that suggested that she’d heard it before. “What’s your last name, Stiles? And how do you two know each other?”
She shifted her attention onto Cora then, observing, “Manic energy isn’t your usual type.” Gaze sliding onto Stiles again, her glare turned stony. She kept the full weight of it on Stiles as she continued to speak to Cora. “Neither is scrawny.”
He was halfway through downing his stolen glass of water when the pair of them decided to tag team him; one asking what he meant and the other just straight up dropping the penis into casual conversation. Snorting, he nearly choked. “Am I impl--no, god, no, how d’you even get-- Cora, why is she holding a knife at --ohmygod.” The words tumbled over themselves on an exhale when she grabbed his chair and yanked him forwards, closer to both her and the steak knife in her hands.
“It means ‘how’re you’, holy god, what is wrong with you, we’re in public!” In deference to being in public, his voice was a low, furious -- lowkey terrified, shh -- whisper. “And she doesn’t need my balls, thank you very much,” he cupped himself with both hands before she got any big ideas, “she’s got big enough ones of her own, are you kidding me with this right now?”
As soon as Braeden let go of his chair, it was with a wounded look at Cora that he immediately pushed himself away from the pair of them, though still technically at their table. He was pretty sure Braeden was laughing at him, but given how she still had a knife -- sure, it was stuck in the table right now but that didn’t mean shit -- he wasn’t about to call her out on it.
“Remind me to never attempt pleasantries around either of you.” He gave them the stink eye and then sniffed. “What’s your last name?” He might’ve pushed his chair back a little bit more, so she couldn’t grab him as easily and he would’ve gone for the double whammy of ‘and how do you know Cora’ but she’d slid straight on into insults.
His mouth opened, offended. “I’m not scrawny! I’m svelte, thank you very much. Underneath all this plaid I’m actually as--” he took her in and quickly changed his mind, continuing as though there’d been no pause, “--no where near as buff as you, but I’m getting there!”
He’d never felt more like a meme in all his life. I came out for a good time and I’m feeling so attacked right now.
“Your friend is mean,” he said, focusing on Cora, but keeping one eye out in case the other decided to move quickly; why were all the beautiful people so freaking dangerous? “I only came over to ask a question and I’ve had my manhood threatened unjustly.”
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