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Lydia Martin personifies (eunoia) wrote in paradisolog,

When Finnick started his question, Lydia lifted her eyebrows curiously, waiting for it, because he thought that she could help. When Scott's name came out of his mouth, Lydia's expression dropped back down and she intentionally took a moment to collect herself, because it seemed like every time Scott came up in conversation, she found more things to be angry with him for, beyond Malia; beyond telling her to mind her own business and butt out when she had his and Stiles's best interest at heart. Now Isaac had told her that Allison had died in Scott's arms telling him that she loved him and Lydia already knew that Scott was with Kira back home and she thought that they might've started casually seeing one another while Allison had been with Isaac. Everything back home had been such a blur, it was hard to pick those sorts of things out, because they'd seemed so insignificant at the time.

"He typically has good intentions," she answered flatly. She could at least give him credit for that much. "We're not really on great terms right now, so I'd really rather not talk about Scott, if it's all the same to you, sweetie," she said, keeping her tone carefully even because, again, she reminded herself that the hormones were largely to blame for the surge of annoyance moving through her at that moment and she would be damned if she took that out on Finnick.

Though seeing Finnick light up like that made Lydia smile again. "Really," she assured him, "I like you too." And she meant that. In a place where she'd meant to get away from everything back home and only wound up right back in the middle of it, Finnick was her favorite reprieve.

The tone of the conversation seemed to flip a switch almost as quickly as her moods had been doing the past twenty-four hours and she looked both taken aback and confused. For one thing, she couldn't remember telling Finnick that Stiles was the father, because she distinctly remembered him brushing off his interest in knowing and she'd taken that as a cue to specifically avoid coming out and telling him who the father actually was. Lydia couldn't decide if that meant he'd asked someone behind her back or if other people were freely talking about her behind her back and neither gave her a very good feeling. She frowned. "No, I'm not in love with Stiles," she sighed, reaching hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose. It had to be Scott or Stiles. Isaac didn't seem like the type to talk about her when she wasn't paying attention and Malia didn't talk behind anyone's back; she just ran off at the mouth freely and unashamedly. "There's no guy. There's no guy on the side," she went on and her stomach twisted as she closed her eyes in a slow blink, remembering all of the black blood between the twins as Ethan held his brother's dead body. "I had a boyfriend back home. But he died shortly before I came here. The same night my best friend was killed. So, no. I'm not in love with anyone; there isn't anyone. I can't do that again. At least not now or any time soon." She paused, lowering her hand again. "Who told you about Stiles? God, I'm so sick of people talking about me, I'm a person. I'm not fodder for fucking conversation," she lamented, frowning heavily.