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Stiles + Looking Back (requested by anonymous)

lydiamartinx‌ / * agent martin. :

“Technically, the wine isn’t paid for yet,” Lydia counters, not missing a beat. She rests her chin on her hand, red lips pouted as she blinks her doe eyes at him — anyone around them could have mistaken it for a young couple flirting, but coming from her and direted at him? It’s nothing but condescension. “You may have ordered it, and it’s been added to our bill — but no, you haven’t paid for it. And knowing you, haven’t paid for a single meal in your life, especially not in a place like this.” Dainty fingers gesture around her as she narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t guys like you think you’re entitled to steal from the rich? Except, unlike Robin Hood, you don’t give to the poor, you just spend it on guns and hired hitmen to work for you.” Her voice is hushed, but it’s sharp. Nobody around them can hear what she is saying, but she doesn’t hesitate in telling him what the file on him says, what she sees as fact. Sure, maybe it makes her more of a target for him, but isn’t she already? If he wanted her dead or captured, he could have done so whilst he had her vulnerable and asleep back at her place. Even thinking back to the position she had been in makes the girl cringe.

He’s complimenting her again, seemingly undaunted by her irritation. What he says next though has her anger bubbling up, hand dropping from her chin to slap lightly onto the table, a soft huff emitting from her plump lips. Before she can comment that she already knows that, both of their eyes are caught on the man as he crosses the restaurant, a light, casual expression on her face even as her eyes harden. The strawberry blonde barely hears his offer, only catching the end of it and rolling her eyes as she finally drags her eyes away from the curtain. “First of all, I am fully aware of the events of last night, and secondly? No. I am not leaving, and I’m certainly not going to willingly be alone in a dark room with you.” Those bright eyes of hers flash dangerously. “And don’t call me ‘Lyds’.” That nickname is reserved to those who she cares about, and Stilinski does not come under that bracket.

She easily misses the prospect that he may be concerned about her safety — clearly, he must have some secret agenda. Maybe he is working with them again, she is sure that have had contact in the past. Maybe he is just trying to stall her for his associates. There’s the slightest wariness in her eyes as they flicker between him and the dark curtain, her lips folding in on themselves. It’s not as though she had ever trusted him before now, but it had always been some unspoken agreement that he’d never hurt her and she’d never call him in. Was that torn to shreds now? Was she about to be ambushed? It’s with a quiet, stiff voice that she confronts him. “Are you working with Hale?”

ALMOST ALL OF HIS interactions with her have been lighthearted, save for the time he showed up at her apartment half-dead. But there was a grim seriousness in his expression, now, especially now that she’s seemingly caught who was behind the curtain. He didn’t doubt that she would ; she was keen, and she was smart as all hell. And that meant she was in more danger than he was comfortable with. He continues watching the curtains, waiting to see if more people join -- or if someone comes out of there. His eyes are locked on it, hand lowering from the wine glass to grip the edge of the white-clothed table. He doesn’t say anything to her sharp remarks until she asks him if he’s working with Hale. WHAT ? His eyes dart to hers with furrowed eyebrows, and he looks almost offended. Was she thinking this is part of a ploy ? To be fair, it is ... but only for his own agenda. Not for some crime boss. “ You’re joking, right ? ” He asks, staring at her with a hardened gaze. Where was that sarcastic, annoying guy now ? He’s all too serious. It’s concerning -- especially since he’d been so carefree with a stab wound. To be this serious ... “ I may be a criminal, but I’m not working with that piece of shit. I have standards. ” He bites, a little frustrated. It shows in his tone and his eyes move back to the curtain, where someone in a suit disappears to. Maybe the restaurant manager ? It’s only when his attention’s on another figure again that he realizes what she means by that accusation. “ Do you really think I’m trying to get you hurt ? I’m trying to do the opposite of that. Why do you think I want to get the hell out of dodge with you ? Because it doesn’t matter that we’re in public, if he so much as catches wind about you, he’ll flay us both ! ” Stiles snaps under his breath, trying to remain as nonchalant as possible when it comes to looking inconspicuous. “ Please, just -- stop being stubborn for one second and actually LISTEN to me. We need to get out of here, or -- or you need to call reinforcements, or SOMETHING. But preferably, we get as far away from that guy as possible. ”

#lydiamartinx #tbt ;

moonloyal

fracturedpneuma‌:

rpmemes-galore‌:

Do y’all ever read your partner’s reply and it’s just… so beautiful, so well-crafted, you really just have to sit back, and read it a couple more times, and wonder how in the heck you got so lucky to write with someone THIS talented??

@humanbeta / @moonloyal

uhhhh did you mean @fracturedpneuma ???

#fracturedpneuma #reblogging on both blogs because i can #and i love em with my whole heart and her writing

lydiamartinx / * agent martin. ‌:

He is practically oozing with glee; this stupid, cocky little look about him that makes her want to tear her hair out. But she leaves her pristine, beautiful copper waves where they rest trickling down her collarbones, and fixes him with a glare instead. If Lydia had thought his turning up in her home had been bad enough, this is far worse. This is new territory. Him showing up whilst she was on a covert operation, forcing her to play the role of his date, and getting such a kick out of it — it is almost too much for the strawberry blonde to handle.

His compliment makes her huff again, eyes closing as she tilts her head to the side, lips pursed so tightly they practically disappear for a moment as she gulps back the string of curse words she’s desperate to spout at him. “I didn’t ask for a date,” she mutters, folding her arms across her chests as her head twists to face him again, “I would never ask for a date from you, thank you very much, if I haven’t made that much clear to you already.”

His little performance with the wine has her rolling her eyes, chin tucked to her chest as she contemplates getting up and running the hell out of there. She could do it. She could leave the mission to someone else, claim that she had been compromised through being noticed by the contact somehow — she could lie her way out of it. If only her morals would let her.

Lydia wrinkles her nose at his smirk, eyeing both the wine and him with distaste. “You seriously think I’m going to drink with you?” She scoffs. “I wouldn’t enjoy anything in your company, Stilinski — let alone alcohol.” She had been tipsy when he’d been in her house last time and she is not going to make that mistake again. Moreover, drinking on a mission? Absolutely not. “For the record, we don’t look natural as a date; number one, you are absolutely not my type, and number two, I don’t date criminals.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her water glass to her lips and taking a sip. “Besides, it won’t look suspicious if I stage an elaborate break-up,” the agent counters with a shrug, “Then you’d have to leave.”

The agent can’t help the way her jaw slackens a moment later, gaping at him briefly before her eyes narrow again, lips clamping shut. How dare Stilinski think that he, of all people, can help her somehow? “I don’t want your help,” she snaps in a hushed voice, leaning forward and resting both forearms on the table, “Nor do I need it. I’ve done my research, thank you, I know exactly what I’m getting into.”

SHE’S AS STUNNING AS ALWAYS, never missing a beat. Whether she’s aware of her own beauty or not, Stiles couldn’t pry his eyes away from her even if he tried. He complimented Lydia nearly every time he saw her -- and none of it was fake, or a joke. Even if she thought it was. Her comments make Stiles scoff in faux-offense, his eyes meeting hers with a glint in them. All he could really do in response to her brutal rejections was smirk ; only because he knows if their situation were different, she’d be having a good time. And maybe she is, and he just doesn’t know it. “ Why not ? I bought the wine. You saw me buy the wine. It’s not stolen, or anything. ” He reasons, taking a sip from his own glass with a satisfied sigh. “ Ouch. Agent Martin, I’m a little hurt. The word ‘criminal’ has such a bad rep. ” He watches her for a moment when she mentions a break-up, but he knows she wouldn’t dare go through with such a thing. That would only draw attention to herself -- which is exactly the opposite of what she was trying to do here. “ Oh -- I wasn’t doubting you did your research. I know that you’re a very informed and educated woman, ” He compliments, again, offering a wink. “ I’m just here to watch over you. Maybe save you if things get too dicey. This guy’s got more contacts than you or the rest of the FBI know. He looks harmless, but the guy just killed someone last night. ” He doesn’t leave her time to respond, because the contact is standing up and heading towards a back room -- one of the ones used for private parties. Stiles watches the contact from over his wine glass. When the fancy curtain in front of the private room is pulled away, Stiles catches a glimpse of someone -- a gang boss. A very powerful one. The criminal sputters on his wine for a moment before putting the glass down, turning towards his date with wide eyes. “ Oh, Christ. He’s working with Morgan. ” He mutters, suddenly looking very nervous. “ Lyds -- how about we ditch this mission and go see a movie or something ? My treat, I’ll pay. Really, I will. ”

#lydiamartinx #tbt ;

fracturedpneuma / * blood-related. ‌:

The assassin rolled his eyes, making sure his brother would see just how annoyed he is. Shaking his head, rubbed his face, wondering what it would take for Stiles to finally give up and understand that his twin is a killer. It’s not even a lie. Stuart has taken so many lives by now, he is starting to lose count.

❝ You already know the motive: Money. And to satisfy my lust for blood. I don’t know nor do I care why someone sends me out to kill bad people. Like I said, I get told who to kill, I kill them, I get the money. And here I thought you were supposed to be smart. Get it in your head: I am a killer. No ulterior motive. I am not some sort of wanna-be hero, no matter how hard you wish I was. ❞

STILES STARES at his twin with furrowed eyebrows, annoyance clear in his gaze. Unlike his counterpart, he’s nowhere near as talented at keeping a poker face. He’s getting nowhere, and since the assassin won’t budge ... maybe he could divulge a little bit of information to really try to get under his skin. “ Right, sorry. I forgot that you only care about the money. But are you sure that your lust is only for blood ... ? ” He asks, nonchalantly stepping over to his kitchen a couple feet away, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. He returns, uncapping it and taking a swig. “ I mean ... surely, you’d get lonely if you were by yourself all of the time. Maybe Elliot’s more willing to talk than you are. ” He looks at Stuart with a pointed gaze.

#fracturedpneuma #fbi & the assassin ;

lydiamartinx‌ / * agent martin. :

It had not been easy for Lydia to put the idiot out of her mind. For a fortnight, he’s been cropping up in her thoughts, in her dreams — he is her prime target at work, after all. Why did they have to stick her with a case about such an idiot? Her entire apartment feels tainted, as though he could walk in at any time. The fact that he now knows where she lives is more than a little unnerving. She’s been wary entering her kitchen ever since, the ghost of his smirk behind her eyelids whenever they fall shut.

The mission is a good distraction though. There’s a contact known to be providing warehouse spaces for gangs in the area with a booking at the restaurant tonight — it’s her job to get any information out of him that she can. So, she dons her pretty dress, her brand new high heels, and prepares herself for what will hopefully be a pretty relaxed evening. Aside from being brilliant at her job, she excels in under cover work — especially the sort that requires flirting. Unfortunately, the agent’s plan for an easy night is dashed the moment she hears a painfully familiar voice call out behind her.

Eyes go wide as she takes him in, barely restraining the urge to gape at him him. Shock is easily replaced by anger as he presses his lips to her hand; all she can do not to pull out her gun from where it’s strapped to the side of her thigh and press it to his forehead.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t using a freaking code name, you absolute idiot,” the girl seethes, barely containing her rage as he guides her towards the table, his hands on her as she practically vibrates with fury.

Lydia scoffs at his comment when they sit down, narrow shoulders rising and falling as she huffs breaths in and out angrily. She has to shut her eyes to maintain her composure, knowing if she makes any sort of scene that her mission will be compromised — which is what he had no doubt been counting on.

“Water,” she responds stiffly to the waitress, who is eyeing the both of them with a gooey-eyed look as though they’re the most adorable couple she has ever set eyes on — little does she know. Once the girl is out of earshot and they’re alone, Lydia allows her signature glare to settle on the criminal, heel jabbing childishly at his shin beneath the table. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She whispers through gritted teeth — smile plastered on her face the moment anyone walks by them. “You have to leave — now.” Lydia rubs at the back of her hand where he had kissed it, grimacing as she wipes away any remnants of his lips with a napkin. She is not happy to see him. Her heart is hammering because she’s angry and that’s the only reason why.

HE’S ABSOLUTELY ENJOYING every second of this. He knows he’s getting under Lydia’s skin ; man, she makes it too easy. It takes everything in him not to break out a large grin. Of course, he soaks in the situation, appreciating his faux date for the time being. She’s always been a beautiful woman, since the first time they met & she’d pointed a gun at him -- but on nights like tonight, she looked especially glamorous. Stiles hums happily, not even bothering with hiding his heart eyes. With a date like this, how could he ? “ You look absolutely beautiful, Agent Martin, ” He says, a little softer, both to keep their cover & to be a little more sincere. This was the main course of their banter -- her, calling him an idiot, insulting him -- and him admiring her in every way. Ironic. “ I can’t leave, especially when I promised you a date.” The waitress returns with a rather lavish bottle of wine and water for Lydia. As she uncorks the bottle, Stiles pours them both a nice glass. He smirks at his companion, offering a wink as he raises his wine glass to his lips. He smells it -- acting as if a connoisseur of sorts -- before sipping it. The thief hums out happily at the pleasant taste before sliding Lydia’s glass closer to her. “ Here, have some wine. I bought it -- might as well enjoy it together, right ? It’d be a waste.” He’s all too proud of himself. He raises his glass to his lips again before looking over at Lydia with shifty, knowing eyes. “ So ... you’re going after the big shot, huh ? Listen, if I leave now, it’ll just look suspicious. We’ll look more natural as a date, and he’s not going anywhere, so ... enjoy the ride. ” He winks, before moving his gaze to stare at the contact across the restaurant. “ Besides, I think you’ll be needing my assistance with this one, Lyds. He’s kind of a big guy. Has a lot more resources than you or your agency really knows. ”

#lydiamartinx #tbt ;

lydiamartinx / * agent martin. ‌:

Lydia is usually a light sleeper. She usually struggles to get to sleep at all, and when she does, various nightmares of missions been and gone tend to haunt her sleep. One in particular affects her most of all. Images of that failed venture soak into her mind even in her waking moments, thoughts easily disturbed by the visage of one Peter Hale. It had been her first few weeks out of the academy, she’d been chosen as bait in an attempt to bring him in. Everything had gone horribly wrong. Even now, she could remember how it had felt to be kept hostage by him, how much he had enjoyed it. Agent Martin had vowed from that moment to be better; train even harder, think even quicker. Trust no-one. She was breaking that promise to herself when it came to Stilinski. But there was something about him that made impossible for her not to.

Lydia wakes with a start a few moments after his exit. The sound of her gun clattering to the floor is what had woken her, and she gasps as she sits up, eyes blinking wildly as the events of the night before come flooding back. The sensation of the blanket on top of her momentarily feels like some sort of binding and she panics. What an idiot she had been to fall asleep, he could have done anything to her — he could have tied her up and tortured her to try and get information out of her about what the F.B.I. had on him. Like a certain other prisoner had done. But no. She frowns. It’s a blanket on top of her. Her lips almost quirk into a smile but she bites her lip to stifle the automatic reaction as she gets gingerly to her feet.

She reads the note a couple times, scoffing at the ending. Jerk. He can call her cute if he likes, it doesn’t change anything. He’s out of his mind if he thinks she’ll ever accept some sort of date with him. All she wants now is to forget about this whole stupid business and move on. Lydia doesn’t want a reminder of what she’s done. She’s broken about a dozen laws and left her open to blackmail. He could easily get her fired if he tells anyone she’s helped him and not turned him in. And why had she done that? She doesn’t have an answer. She bins the pill — she doesn’t trust that it’s actually aspirin — and pours herself a fresh glass of water, scowling at the blood stain on her kitchen chair.

IT’S A COUPLE WEEKS LATER WHEN THEY MEET AGAIN. To Lydia, it may be completely by happenstance -- but to Stiles, this was planned. Mostly. Okay, it absolutely was planned by the thief -- but at least his intentions were good. Sort of. He watches from afar as the strawberry-blonde enters the restaurant, dressed in a fancy dress. The corners of his lips twitch into a slight smirk upon looking her over ; Lydia really didn’t disappoint in terms of looks. He’s complimented her beauty more times than he could could on both hands. As she approaches the hostess, Stiles takes this as his cue. He puts on a facade, seeming exasperated and a little out of breath. “ Lydia ! Oh, I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you’d never show up. ” He approaches the agent, gently taking her hand and pulling it to his lips, placing a ginger kiss on the back of it. “ Come on. I’ve got a table reserved in the back for us. ” He guides Lydia along, not giving her time to protest. He knows exactly what he’s doing by interrupting her mission, but hey -- he still owes her a date ! “ What do you think ? Better than that meathead that took you out a couple weeks ago ? ” He asks, raising his eyebrows at the agent when the waitress approaches their table, asking if they could take their orders & offering wine. “ Yes, please, ” Stiles says, smiling at the waitress. “A bottle of your finest wine ... and whatever my date would like.” He throws Lydia a charming wink.

#lydiamartinx #tbt ;

fracturedpneuma / * blood-related. ‌:

It took every fiber in his body not to chuckle. Stuart is definitely amused at Stiles and how obviously frustrated he is. But despite his brother’s frustration, he is still adamant to understand the assassin’s true motive. He can’t tell the agent the truth. His handler wouldn’t like it. No one in the CIA would like that. Especially since Stiles works with the FBI and only a handful of people knew of the CIA’s secret operation.

❝ You really can’t stand the idea of your long lost brother being a heartless killer, huh? I am sorry, buddy, it’s the truth. I enjoy taking people’s lives. And I love getting paid for it, too. Just accept the truth. ❞

STILES CAN TELL just from looking at his twin’s face that he was getting some sort of satisfaction from his frustration. The agent looks over his doppelganger a little more carefully, dark eyes watching his every move. Even though this guy was blood-related, he couldn’t be too careful. “ Yeah. Especially when I know there’s a motive. ” He bites back. “ Why chase only those with bad or criminal history ? ”

#fracturedpneuma #fbi & the assassin ;

6aint-deactivated20250716

from “that’s my girl” to “that’s my wife”

#stydia ;

fracturedpneuma‌ / * ? :

Stuart can see that Stiles was trying to figure this out but he is certain that his brother wouldn’t be able to connect the dots. Not without way more clues. Sure, the agent is pretty smart and it’s said about him that he easily figures everything out, but the assassin highly doubts that he will be able to figure out who Stuart’s boss is just like that. But then again, he is right that his boss is someone who has power. Either way, the assassin isn’t worried.

When Stiles talked about how other agents have done worse, Stuart remembered that he had to take down a hand full of corrupted agents. It was weird. It felt weird. Almost ‘wrong’. But they made their bed and Stuart made sure they would lie in it. And then his brother said he is giving him a chance to explain himself. To which, the older out of the two began chuckling. It was a very amused chuckle.

❝ Oh, why didn’t you say so in the first place? Man, if I had known you are giving me a chance to explain myself, I would’ve done so immediately. ❞ , obviously, he is mocking the FBI agent. After a moment, he stopped chuckling and looked at his Doppelganger with an unreadable expression.

❝ And what makes you think I need a chance to explain myself? I like what I am doing. Taking someone’s life is something else. It feels.. so good. I love seeing the blood seep out of their wounds and gather in puddles. And the best part: I am getting paid for it! I am a psychopath and I am living the dream, buddy. What else is there to know? ❞

UGH, THIS GUY’S A PAIN IN THE ASS. No wonder they were related. It’s obvious that Stuart isn’t going to give up information. Stiles blows out a faintly frustrated sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose. Haha, hilarious. And the graphic detail ... predictable. “ Yeah, sure. ” Stiles comments, blowing out another sigh. “ Whatever you say. I’m giving you a chance to tell me the truth about your intentions. Is there something more to it then money that you get out of it? A sense of heroism? ” He asks, staring at his twin with burning eyes. He wasn’t buying the assassin’s heartless and cold facade.

#fracturedpneuma #fbi & assassin ;

stydiaislove

Stiles Stilinski and his awe for Lydia Martin.

#{ ʀᴇᴅ sᴛʀɪɴɢs ʙɪɴᴅ ᴜs } — stiles & lydia.

lydiamartinx / * agent martin. ‌:

Lydia rolls her eyes at his “ sadness ”, well aware that it is merely another ploy to tease her, and that it’s not in the least bit genuine. It’s seems that even as he is wounded and slumped in her kitchen, he’s still desperate to wind her up at every chance he can. If he wasn’t already injured, she’d have punched him by now.

However, she smiles faintly at his remark about why the guy might have been rude. “Intimidating, hm?” She quirks an eyebrow. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Stilinski of all the guys she’s met can’t help but admit her strengths — he’s been on the receiving end of a fair few of her punches. But some guy she doesn’t know on a blind date isn’t likely to see her as anything other than a pretty face — a definition the strawberry blonde frankly detests.

His final words make the girl blanch and she narrows her eyes. “What?” She mutters, keeping her gaze on her bloody fingers as she finishes dressing the wound, “Of — well, of course not.” It’s so ridiculous and that’s why she struggles to get the words out, not because of any other reason. But when she raises her gaze the detective realises that he hasn’t even heard her stammering. His eyes are shut and he’s out for the count. “Shit — Stilinski,” she calls out, swearing under her breath as she sits up higher on her knees, “Hey, wake up — oh, for God’s sake.” The detective’s face scrunches up in the realisation that he’s not going to wake up any time soon, her hand slapping against the counter in frustration.

Her night has just been complicated tenfold — not only has she had to endure the company of the criminal whilst she heals him, now she’s got to have him slumped in her kitchen until he wakes up, whenever the hell that’s going to happen. It’s the perfect opportunity to turn him in — he’s asleep, for God’s sake. Her team could be there in five minutes to pick him up and he wouldn’t be her problem anymore. But the girl can’t help but feel that somehow she’d be betraying her moral compass by doing so.

Cursing herself mentally she pushes herself to her feet, marching across the kitchen and grabbing some blankets from the living room. She lays on over him rather bitterly, shooting him a glare before settling herself on a chair opposite him across the kitchen. Expression set in a glare, the young woman plans to stay awake until he comes to, and then get him the fuck out of her house. But even Lydia Martin can’t fend off sleep forever — especially after a significantly unpleasant night and half a bottle of wine. It’s several hours though before her eyes slip closed through no fault of her own; the petite woman curls up in the uncomfortable kitchen chair like a kitten — only one with a gun in its lap.

HIS SLEEP HAD BEEN A DREAMLESS ONE, a deep sleep that did hardly anything with helping to restore Stiles’ energy. His eyes flutter open slowly, and he feels his eyes sting from the light ; where the hell is he ? He blinks hard, picking his head up from where it’d been rolled back and over the back of the chair. His neck aches -- and he grimaces at the slight pull in his abdomen. What ... ? His amber eyes continue surveying the area. Oh, that’s right. This is Lydia’s house. His eyes keep traveling until he finds Lydia curled up in the chair across from his, still asleep ... and, fittingly, with a gun in her lap. The sight makes Stiles smirk, and he holds his breath to move -- only to find that a blanket was draped over him. How considerate. Stiles’ smirk only deepens ; she’s got to care for him at least a little bit. If she didn’t ... well, why would he be here ? He’d be dead. If Lydia didn’t care about helping him, she wouldn’t have tended to his wound and let him sleep here all night ... even if he was under potential supervision. Slowly, he stands up from where he’s sat, carefully pulling the blanket off of him. The bleeding’s stopped -- that’s good. He looks back over to Lydia, eyeing her curiously. She’s out cold, too, it seems, since she still hasn’t budged from the slight sound he’d made. He takes the blanket and steps over to her, silently, and carefully drapes the blanket over her in return. After a few moments, he finally decides to make his exit while he can. But not before he leaves behind a little surprise for her. Specifically, a glass of water, some aspirin he found in her medicine cabinet, and a note. ‘ THANKS FOR PATCHING ME UP. YOU’RE ONE HELL OF A COP. I OWE YOU ONE. MAYBE WE CAN SHARE A GLASS OF WINE OVER A NICE DINNER, MY TREAT. PS - YOU’RE SO CUTE WHEN YOU SLEEP. - S.S. ‘

#lydiamartinx #tbt ;#i'm loving this

fracturedpneuma / * ? ‌:

━━━━ ━━━━ ━━━━

Stuart tiled his head to one side, giving his brother a look that said ‘Sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about’. It’s been a long time since he played dumb like that and he can’t deny he enjoys it. While Stiles is pretty good at hiding, the assassin could almost feel that he is getting under his skin and it felt very satisfying. Something, he is definitely showing to the younger out of the two.

❝ Terroristic pasts? No idea, man. Sure, I stalk them and all and read files and such but I don’t really care about their past. I kill whom I paid to kill. Maybe someone with a lot of money had a personal grudge against some terrorists or something like that? I don’t really know but like I said: I kill whomever I am paid to kill. Men, women, kids, animals. I don’t really make an exception. ❞ , a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders followed his words, empathizing just how little he cares about who his target is. And while it’s not true, he is a very convincing liar.

❝ Oh? So you expect me to tell you everything you want and then put me in jail anyway? I am sorry but this is not how it works. Why would I tell you anything if I don’t get anything out of it? And unlike you, I am not looking for ‘closure’. So.. strike me a good deal or call your friends to bring me in for questioning. Not that they would get anything out of me but maybe they can make me a better offer than you? ❞ , playing dumb is offer. Stuart is completely back to his smug-self, grinning at his Doppelganger.

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“ Personal grudge of terrorists. Sure ... ” He grumbles, clearly not appreciating Stuart’s attempt at playing dumb. And when he goes on about his targets being anyone, and how he doesn’t care, Stiles couldn’t help but blow out a slight laugh. Seriously ? He’s supposed to believe that ? “ Yeah, nice try. Do you know how many cases we go through ? You’ve got a very specific way of killing. None of the cases we’ve grouped together have any victims that were anyone other than terrorists or ... corrupt and dangerous people, I guess. ” He looks over his twin analytically. “ Who said anything about putting you in jail ? Jail’s an option if you don’t cooperate with me. But I just want to know what your goal is. You’re doing it for more than the money ... I know you are. What’s the purpose ? Do you feel like some kind of hero for taking out bad guys ? Listen -- tell me the truth, the honest truth, and I’ll let you go. And I won’t pursue you. ”

#fracturedpneuma #fbi & assassin ;

fracturedpneuma‌ / * ? :

His wounds? Stiles has no idea what he is talking about. Sure, Stuart can’t stand Noah and Claudia for selling him off but he doesn’t care enough to let it turn into hate for them. He just wants nothing to do with these people. And when he asked about the team the assassin mentioned, he couldn’t help but snicker to himself, shaking his head.

❝ They’re middlemen. They don’t kill. I mean.. Usually, they don’t kill. They observe, hack into every system, possible and hand us everything we need. I bet they can find dirt on you too. I am sure you’re not the perfect little puppet your bosses want you to be. The fact that I am here in your apartment despite you knowing what I do for a living already proves me right. ❞

WHAT KIND OF GROUP IS THIS ? There’s no way that there were any groups that could be this advanced unless they were a branch of a government division. Pursing his lips, he considers the possibility of Stuart being in some top-secret team for the FBI. But he’s pretty sure he would’ve known that long before now. Hmmm ... “ Sounds pretty advanced just for a bunch of random people. They’ve got to have some kind of power, don’t they ... ? ” He asks. And Stuart’s comment about them finding dirt on him makes him scoff. “ What dirt ? That I’m breaking protocol by interrogating you in my apartment ? Big whoop. Other agents have done worse. ” Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “ Listen ... Mitch. I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself. ”

#fracturedpneuma #fbi & assassin ;