Any nerves that Lydia would have had were almost completely shot by this point. Between trying to keep the peace between Derek and Allison/Scott (seriously, when had that happened?) and being singled out by Lucifer, Lydia was exhausted. She hadn't told any of her friends that the fallen angel had bothered with her because she kept trying to convince herself that it had meant nothing. He was trying to agitate everyone; she was no different. But there was a difference between convincing and bekieving and even Lydia did not believe it.
So instead of focusing on thoughts of possession, Peter Hale and Lucifer, she turned to kept her attentions turned elsewhere; namely Armand St. Just. She liked him so much that it almost scared her. He didn't expect anything of her, which was new territory in itself. She certainly had never told anyone that she wanted to kiss them before, she generally just went for it. In some ways, he was like a baby bird that didn't want to leave the nest. It was intimidating and adorable at once.
Their fingers had been laced together as they walked through Lawrence, and they both agreed that it was prudent to get back home before dark. It didn't really matter what time of day it was, there was always the chance of being attacked, but the comfort was there regardless.
She trailed in after him, pressing herself against the door after he locked it, giving the knob a good twist before grinning mischievously at him. "I like your place." Whereas her own apartment was covered in pictures and posters from various places, Armand's was a great contrast to it. Lydia followed him into the kitchen and pulled a chair up slightly closer to watch him work, tucking her knees underneath her chin with ease.