WHO: Sheriff Stilinski & Sally Valentino WHAT: The Sheriff is working late. Again. And cheating at his diet. A certain young witch tries to "sneak in" her weekly load of rediscovered lost items. Hilarity possibly ensues. WHERE: Beacon Hills Sheriff Station WHEN: Thursday, 10/15, some time after this text conversation RATING: PG
It was no surprise that John found himself metaphorically chained to his desk at the station for another late night. The mountain of backlog from the bizarre animal attacks still had to be dealt with. That was, of course, on top of the regular other occurrences that a sheriff's department was forced to deal with on a weekly basis. It felt like he spent more time at the station than in his own home these days. While some might call him a workaholic, John's schedule was more out of necessity than personal preference. If it were up to him, his preference would actually be to not spend so much time out of the house. He missed spending quality time with Stiles. He felt horribly guilty that his limited time at home bordered on negligent, but Stiles was older now and more than capable of looking after himself. A large part of John's concern amounted to a genuine worry over what shenanigans his diabolically precocious son might be getting up to in his absence.
The slight upside to working late, however, was that he could have the dinner of his choice away from the younger Stilinski's watchful eyes. Just as John had an uncanny sense for when people were not telling him the whole truth, Stiles seemed to display an equally shrewd sense of when his dad was not sticking to his prescribed dietary plan. He texted Stiles earlier to inform him that he was doing another double shift tonight and almost immediately his son responded to hound him about his eating habits. Stiles had taken to packing his lunches lately to make sure he was having healthy foods, but on these doubles, John liked to treat himself to a double bacon cheeseburger with a large Coke and a heaping side of those curly fries Stiles likes so much. At the very least, he should understand exactly how addictive those were.
As busy as he was, dinnertime was sacred. John pushed his pile of case files off to the side to avoid dripping sauce and bacon grease on them. He meticulously covered his immediate desktop with layers of spread napkins. He pushed his chair in as far as he could stand for it to go and leaned forward to make sure no incriminating crumbs or stains could possibly give away his cheat meal. In this case, he wasn't the least bit ashamed to have told his new deputy to give him a head's up if Stiles (or Scott, for that matter) showed up at the station. Stiles did say something about spies, the little tyke.