Allison gets her message. She's halfway through a reply before she makes herself stop, delete it...and put her device away.
She hates not talking to Lydia. Now that she has these feelings without memory, everything seems to hurt when she's away from the group--the pack. She even misses Stiles, which makes her more than a little disgusted with herself.
She doesn't remember, but she knows: this may be the only way to reach him: when Lydia is hurt, it undoes the man he thinks he is. It changes the game.
When she heads downstairs to grab some food from the restaurant, she's uncharacteristically covered: jeans and sneakers, a halter tank top her only concession to her usual barely there clothing. She can't help it: today, she actually feels exposed.
She's not paying attention when she heads into the restaurant, and freezes in the doorway when she spots Lydia scanning the restaurant.
It's inevitable that her eyes fall on Allison. For a second, she can't breathe.
In a medical room of some kind, dark colors and bright lights...sterile and frightening. An older man with dark skin...something about a tether, and she's moving without thinking because of course it's Lydia, it's always Lydia...linked at the arm and joined at the hip...
She blinks, shakes herself...but the memory sticks, like the jacket and the pen and the road flare.
It makes every nerve scream to go to her, to complete the circuit.
Instead, Allison gathers her strength...and keeps walking, brushing past Lydia without a word as she heads for the buffet.