The crunch of leaves is what stirs her out of her daydream. Her nostrils flare as she picks up a scent: girly and soft with a slight undertone of power and authority. Lydia. Her breath hitches in her throat as a bullet is fired, the powder overwhelming her senses, and her claws extend in preparation; ready to attack. "I know you're there!" Lydia yells, booming voice a thundering pound in her eardrum, "Show yourself, Allison!"

"You're quite the screamer," she grins, stepping out of the shadows, "Then again, I would know." She laughs, fangs exposed in the moonlight; a gleam in the dark. "Woah, calm down, sweetheart," she adds as Lydia points the gun, aiming for her heart, "I thought you were just messing around."

"We'll see what happens," Lydia quips, keeping her aim steady, "This 'relationship' could go either way." She points to the sky, firing another warning shot and Allison gulps, icy fear suddenly pooling in her stomach. "I mean, you are a werewolf and I'm a hunter. It was kind of doomed from the start."

"It was Stiles, wasn't it? He put all this in your head, so that he could have you." She spits out the words like they are bitter, desperate to rid her tongue of the taste. It is subtle, but Lydia falters. The girl sways slightly in the cool night air, fiery hair billowing behind her like a cape. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

Allison lowers her defense, claws retracting and fangs receding. She steps over to Lydia cautiously, her heartbeat so loud, she was sure the entire world could hear it. "So, it was Stiles," she murmurs, arms reaching out to the girl before her and Lydia took the invitation, practically crumbling in Allison's embrace.

They stand there in silence, holding each other, and when they eventually pull away, Allison's shoulder is wet, but she makes no point to mention it. Instead, she wipes away the remainder of Lydia's tears and brings her lips to Lydia's mouth; a physical promise to keep this, to keep her, safe.