"That's fair," Stiles murmured into his glass before taking a much more conservative sip of the tequila. He definitely planned on suffering, but what he didn't plan on was getting black out, choke on his own vomit drunk.
But she was right. Salem was pretty fucking awful.
He used to bitch and moan about Beacon Hills, but it was practically Six Flags compared to the unparalleled shitshow that was Salem. Every time he passed by the train station, his ribs always felt ten times smaller than they needed to be to keep him breathing. At least the Nemeton had a tendency to hide itself, obscured through miles of trees until it felt like being found. The train, and everything it could take him to was far too close for comfort. Not to mention there was never a shortage of terrible things they never asked for happening to all of them.
Faye continued, and proved his point. He didn't turn his head to look at her head on, but he did watch her out of the corner of his eyes, glass poised at his lips. He knew it was always unnerving for him when people would just keep looking at him dead on, like they were trying to prove a point to themselves just as much as to him.
She was so factual, so to the point, but there was a heaviness to her words. No, not to her words, but the way she said them, and the exact order of them. When she was done, Stiles took another drink. His head already felt a little lighter for it.. or maybe it was the subject matter. Who fucking cared. He'd keep going until he couldn't think to tell the difference. The tequila burned all the way down, and finally, Stiles cringed a little.
"Even if you actually did it," he said plainly. "That doesn't mean it was your fault." Stiles didn't press on right away. He felt a little unsteady when he visualized what he wanted to say, so he took a bigger sip of his liquid courage. "So what if you liked it? You wouldn't have known that if you didn't have your choices taken from you." Slowly, Stiles turned his head more to get a better look at her. "But you don't know for sure?" Rubbing the back of his neck, Stiles glanced over the roof and let out a sigh. "If you really want to know for sure, Faye, I can probably help. Huge emphasis on probably." Taking his index finger off the side of his glass so he could point at Faye, he elaborated. "You can't tell anyone, but I'm.. kind of doing PI work. Or I was. Unless I got fired from that too and just don't know it yet... but whatever. I can still help. If you want it."