stolid 

adjective | stol - id | meaning - showing little or no emotion ; not easily excited or upset

08; Questions and Answers

After many years of hunting, Miles Argent had learned to remain vigilant no matter how weary he was. And while nothing drained him as much as Mr.Drennings in World History, he still noticed nearly immediately how closely Allison and and one Scott McCall were sitting together when he entered the lunchroom.

To most people, it wouldn't have seemed out of the ordinary. The pair had their backs to each other, sitting at two separate tables and not at all acknowledging each other. 

But Miles wasn't most people. He had quickly picked up on the fact that Allison was discreetly moving her lips as she stared forward, obviously talking to someone even though there was no one else around her at the table. Getting closer, Miles notices that Scott was doing the same, and it became clear that the two were trying to talk to each other secretively. Unfortunately, while Allison may be pretty sly, Miles was incredibly vigilant. 

Miles neared the table his cousin was sitting at, and when Allison noticed him she quickly clamped her mouth shut. Scott had begun to look over his shoulder, probably to see why she'd abruptly stop talking, but when he caught sight of the older Argent, Scott nearly broke his neck trying to turn back around. 

"Hey, Al," Miles greeted, deciding for the time being that he was going to pretend that what he just saw didn't happen. He had decided that while it was clear that Allison was fratinizing with a supernatural creature, Miles wanted to see what exactly was going on, because he knew he eventually was going to have to bring a stop to it. That was, after all, what his entire purpose in life amounted to; stopping supernatural trouble dead in it's tracks, normally quite literally. 

"Hey," Allison said back to her cousin. Her eyes studied him carefully. She must've wanted to know if Miles had seen anything, or even what he knew about Scott, but she definitely wasn't going to ask. 

"You know I have a favor to ask," Miles began. His eyes flickered over to Scott, who was concentrating awfully hard on his unopened box of apple juice, and Allison jumped ever so slightly. "I'm still knew at school, you know, and I was hoping you could help me in the lunch line. Steer me away from getting gross foods, and all. Think you come do that for me?" 

His message was clear, he wanted her to get up. Allison knew that much, but she didn't know why. How much could her father had possibly told him about Scott? Did Miles think Scott was just an ex-boyfriend, or did he know Scott was more then that and strategically planning the werewolf's death? The Miles she used to know wouldn't have done that, but she didn't know anymore with this one. 

Allison had paled even more then usual, and with a quick nod of her head, gathered her things and began to stand up. But when she did, Miles' phone went off. He slid it out of his jacket pocket, read a message that Allison couldn't see, and frowned. 

"I'm gonna need a rain check on that actually," Miles said, slidding his phone back into his pocket. "Duty calls." 

And with that, Miles began marching away, but not without looking over his shoulder to his cousin. The girl had been smart enough to move and sit by Lydia and some others friends when Miles looked back. He felt a small wave of relief washed over him.

The way Miles saw it, Allison's story could be going one of two ways. Scenario one, Allison had accidentally fallen for a creature of the night without knowing what he was, and now was trying to cut things off, but was having trouble letting him go. That was a classic case of foolish teenage love, which Miles had seen plenty of times, and Miles trusted his cousin was smart enough to put mind before heart within a matter of time. 

But then there was scenario two, which was the fact that Allison was willingly involved with Scott and whatever supernatural mayhem he was involved in and was hiding it from her family because she was siding with the wrong people. Miles prayed to every god he'd ever heard of that that wasn't the case, because if it was it must've meant that one of the few people he cared about was a traitor, and he knew all to well what he was supposed to do to traitors. 

Miles pushed the second scenario out of his mind. He had no time to think about that now , anyways. His uncle had, after all, just texted him and asked for his assistance in something hopefully much more important and unrelated to the potential warfare that was Allison and Scott. 

The location Chris had asked Miles too was the very place they had been hardly a day earlier while training Allison. The Hale House. But this time, the reason for being their wasn't because he was attempting to teach valuable lessons to an up-and-coming Hunter. Instead, it was because their had been a murder within the hunter community. 

Miles looked down at the body, which Chris had brought into the burnt up house from where it had been found outside. Miles recognized the victim because he had been talking to him just the night before while Allison had been experiencing her first training session. It was Bennett, the only Hunter since Miles had come to Beacon Hills who hadn't treated Miles like an underling or an outsider, and actually been intrigued to here about the things Miles had experienced.

 And now, Bennett was dead. Miles was bitterly unsurprised. 

Miles walked slowly around the table the mangled body was on. Claw-like scratches cut deep, jagged lines down Bennett's body, allowing practically all of his innards to be seen. Miles knew that he should be thinking that this was a werewolf, seeing as that was currently the creature he had been called into town to help with, but looking at the body, Miles just knew it wasn't a werewolf. He had dealt with more werewolves then anything else, and he had never known one to do something like this. 

"What the hell did this to him?" Miles questioned finally, once he was sure he had taken in all the details he could about the corpse. 

"You were with him last night, we were hoping you could tell us," One of the other hunters in the room said. The man stood in the corner of the room with his arms crossed, looking at Miles with more distrust then usual. The look crawled it's way under Miles skin, and it didn't take much for Miles to read between the older mans lines. 

"And why's that," Miles growled angrily. There was a table between the man and Miles, but Miles looked like he could easily lunge over it in a matter of seconds. "Do you not trust me and think I would've let this happen if I was there? Or do you think of me as too cowardly to bring this to you?" Miles let his voice rise, taking a menacing step forward. "Maybe you're so threatened by me, or the talents my father gave to me, that you can't bear to accept that I might be of help, probably even more helpful then you." 

"Miles," Chris spoke sternly. Before Miles could step any closer to the other hunter, Chris grabbed onto his arm firmly. "I asked you here. I wanted to know if you've seen this before." 

Miles held eye contact with the other hunter, his eyes lit with an angry fire. He knew he wasn't helping them like him anymore, but he didn't really care if they liked him or not. He knew he deserved their respect no matter how they felt towards him, and they were just to jealous of who he could be to give it to a lonely orphan boy. 

"I haven't," Miles finally answered his uncle after a long pause. "I've seen a lot in all my years of hunting," Miles eyes flickered back to the hunter who had offended him before. "But this doesn't feel familiar to me. I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance." 

"It's okay. Nobody else has anything better to offer up anyways," Chris not so subtly reminded the others, who Miles had a feeling wouldn't have rushed to his aid if anything had gone down. There was a reason Miles had stayed in France for so long. 

Suddenly, a noise resembling a cars engine rumbled softly through the outside of the rotting walls. The others looked as confused as Miles felt, telling him they didn't know who it was either. Which meant it very well could be the werewolf this house technically belonged to, Derek Hale. 

The band of hunters motioned at each other, only speaking when they had to. Soon, they all had weaponized themselves in some way. Two hunters had walked from the remnants of the dining room they had gathered in into the foyer, both armed with hand guns that they were pointing at the door. Miles himself had grabbed the military grade shot gun he had brought when trekking through the woods to find the Hale house, and placed himself in the doorway of the dining room. 

The front steps of the Hale house creaked, letting the hunters know someone was approaching. Then, unexpectedly, instead of coming in, a voice spoke. 

"Derek." 

Well, clearly, Miles' idea of it being Derek Hale was incorrect. But he and the others still remained armed and ready for who ever was on the other side of the front door. 

"I know you can hear me. You owe me an explanation," the voice, which was recognizably male, continued to speak. It wasn't very loud, apparently knowing he didn't need to shout to get on Derek's werewolf radar, but it was still clearly angry. "I want to know why it-why it didn't work." 

None of the hunters bothered responding seeing as they weren't who the guy on the other side was looking for. But when he didn't respond, the mystery boy muttered a 'screw it' and burst through the door, only to be greeted by a full-fledged Argent Arsenal and not an alpha werewolf. 

"Holy..." The boy quickly stumbled to a stop, putting both of his hands up when he realized just how many guns were being pointed at him. Once he steadied himself, Miles craned his neck to get a good look, only to see it was Jackson Whitemore, the asshole Miles had threatened on the behalf of Allison's best friend just the other day. Miles felt an oddly good feeling in pointing a gun at the jerk. 

"Wait," Chris called to the others, entering the foyer. All the men, besides Miles, lowered their weapons when Chris approached. Chris looked over at his nephew and frowned. "Stand down, Miles." 

Silently, Miles did as he was told. Jackson looked over at the older boy in fear, not feeling like he was in any less danger even when Miles lowered his gun. As much as he hated to admit it, Miles intimidated Jackson more then even Derek Hale or Chris Argent. The boy had dark eyes and a dark expression, making him look like he was only capable of dark intentions. Not to mention the fact that he was tall and clearly muscular and had already man-handled Jackson once in the school hallway without giving it a second thought. Of all the hunters in the room, Jackson was sure Miles must've been the worse. 

Jackson carefully took his eyes off of Miles, who had an expression that nearly made Jackson want to give up and drop dead so he wouldn't have to face the Argent boy. Jackson then found the mangled body laying just past Miles, and somehow felt more at ease at looking at that then at Miles. 

"What happened to him?" Jackson asked about the body, turning the Chris for an answer. Miles found great joy in the fact that Jackson had clearly avoided looking back at him. Apparently, the scare tactic he'd done on the lacrosse player the other day had worked. 

"That's a good question," Chris answered. "I've got one for you. What are you doing here, Jackson?" 

Miles looked over to his uncle, who was staring expectantly at Jackson. His uncle obviously knew Jackson, and it reminded Miles of how he'd known Scott when they found him caught in a trap the first night Miles had been in Beacon Hills. Something told him Jackson, like Scott and Allison, was more tied up in all of this then Miles had originally realized. 

"Um, nothing," Jackson was suddenly all to aware of Miles. The threat the Argent had given him the other day was all he could think about, and making coherent sentences were nearly impossible when his colorful imagination came up with scenarios of what Miles could do to him. "I was - I was - I was just, nothing." 

Chris quickly grabbed Jackson's shoulder and turned him around, causing the boy to jump. "Jackson," Chris chided loudly. "I hope your not still pursuing something that you shouldn't be. Because then Miles here and I would have to pursue you, and I'm sure you can imagine how badly that would turn out for you." 

Chris had begun walking Jackson back to the front door, apparently ready to send the kid back on his merry way, which Miles wasn't quite sure he was ready to do. 

"You have so much good in your life," Chris continued, still speaking to Jackson. "You're smart, good-looking. You're captain of the lacrosse team." 

Jackson clenched his jaw unhappily. "Co-Captain." 

Chris let out a small breath that could've been mistaken as a short chuckle. And then, with no amusement on his face, he pushed Jackson out of the door without another word and waited for Jackson to make his way to his car before turning to look at Miles. 

Miles put his gun down on a nearby table so he could show to full effect his displeasure with his uncle's decision by crossing his arms and frowning. "Why would you just let him go like that." 

Another breathe that could've been a chuckle. "Jackson's not the bad guy we're looking for, Miles. He's just a stupid kid that's a little lost in life." 

"Yeah, well, he's a world class dick," Miles muttered. 

"I know a few guys that would say the same about you," Chris countered. Hurt splashed across Miles' face, which the boy hurried to hide, but Chris still noticed it. "Luckily, I'm not one of those people, though," Chris added. 

Miles, who at this point was no longer interested in the subject of Jackson since it got spun around to being about him, turned to look at Bennett's body. The case of what had done that to the hunter was still out, along with what they were going to do about it. 

"So where do we go from here?" Miles questioned. "I mean, how are we going to figure out what did this." 

"Easy," Chris had a look on his face that made Miles feel like nothing was going to be easy. "We go see a professional." 

"Are you talking about Grandpa?" 

"I actually had someone else in mind. You haven't by any chance met the town's vet yet, have you Miles?" 

it's been thirty thousand years and this isn't even a very eventful chapter and i'm sorry. but this chapter is v important for Miles' character development and how he finds his place in everything later on, so please, bare with me!!!!