Muse-infested ramblings of a creative mind: February 2014

Thursday, February 27, 2014

Marshal Services

"Dad, why is there a U.S. Marshal on the way here?" Stiles asked as he barged into his father's office.
With his usual roll of the eyes look that has often been referred to as 'what-the-fuck, Stiles?' the sheriff of Beacon Hills calmly answers his son. "There looking for an escaped convict that they think Beacon Hills will be his destination."
Stiles, the ever mystery seeker has his interest peaked instantly. "Who? Why come to Beacon? Who is it? What did they do? Is he dangerous? Murderer? Rapist? Kidnapper? Who?"
As the sheriff raises his hands to stop the unending questions his son is bombarding him with, he once again questions his sanity in giving his son those 'Hardy Boys' books for his eighth birthday. "Slow down, Stiles. I know I might as well tell you some details or you'll just drag Scott, Isaac, and Danny into who knows what trying to figure it out on your own."
   "See, you know I'm just like you."
   "Not going there, son" Rolling his eyes again he continues, "It's Jack White and he's in prison for murdering his girlfriend's mother."
   Stiles brain whirls trying to remember a Jack White but nothing is coming to mind. "Who's Jack White?"
   The sheriff takes a big breath and exhales as slow as he can in an attempt to prolong his answer. "He changed his name because he didn't want to be connected to his family." Seeing that it still didn't come to his son, he decides to put Stiles out of his misery. "Jackson Wittmore." Stiles' eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head when there's a knock on his dad's office door before he can say anything. "It's open."
   Stiles turns around to glare at the person who dared intrude on such a juicy and intriguing conversation when he sees the most amazing set of eyes staring back at him. The intruder breaks their stare and looks to the sheriff, "Sheriff Stilinski?" Reaching forward to shake hands, he bumps into Stiles and the spark nearly anchors them to the spot. Without looking at Stiles, the marshal continues, "I'm Marshal Derek Hale, I believe you talked to my chief about," and that's when he looked at Stiles letting him know it was time for him to leave.
   "This is Stiles, my son."
   "Hey, dude," Stiles sticks out his hand for a shake and gets it but he also gets a glare that screams 'GET OUT'.
   "It's okay, Marshal Hale, he'll find out anyway. He's my son and I love him but he's a nosy little SOB, and he'll only get his friends in trouble trying to find answers. I've learned too many times that it's just easier to let him in from the get go. At least that way he won't get Scott and Danny in trouble too."
    Derek looks back at Stiles to find him bobbing his head like a bobblehead in agreement to his dad's truthful statement. After a very loud huff, "Fine. Just don't let my chief know."
As Derek sits down across from the sheriff, Stiles plops down on the one corner of his dad's desk that's empty looking like he's sitting on tenderhooks waiting for the juicy story. "Stiles!" Stiles jumps a little and looks at his dad, "Sit your butt in the chair, that's what they were created for."