Re: [Beacon Hills Hospital]
She looked over at him when he said he liked the balloons. She was an arch of red brow and a look that said he wouldn't know taupe if it bit him. "Which one's taupe?" she asked, looking from him to the array, and then back at him. She looked as if it was a test, because it was, and it was so nice to concentrate on silly, normal things, like pointing out that most boys had no fashion sense whatsoever.
And she didn't run out. Okay, so maybe she wanted to, but she didn't. It wasn't a logical decision. But out was alone. And even with the dark circles and the horrible bed head, he was still Stiles, and he was still familiar, and the entire world was a ball of eek! So, no, no running. "Pink is associated with cancer," she corrected, and her nose crinkled when he called himself Lightning Lad. He shouldn't joke about it, but she approved of making light of things in general, as long as making light came with hugs and squeezing fingers and not being left alone where anything was buzzing ever. "Lad sounds so 1950s." Lydia, she wasn't fond of the classics, not if it wasn't Versace or Lauren Bacall.
She glanced past him at the television, still not aware that she was holding onto his hand like he was the only thing standing between her and certain death. THIS LANGUAGE WAS INVENTED IN WARSAW IN 1887 BY DR. L.L. ZAMENHOF flashed on the Jeopardy screen, and she turned her attention back to Stiles almost instantly.