Talia Hale's Story

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"The weather today is mostly sunny but there is a bit of a windchill, so you'll probably want a light jacket if you venture outside. Later in the afternoon, however-"

The overly chipper voice of the latest Beacon Hills meteorologist fades into the background as Peter lounges across the couch, his feet thrown up over the arm, hands pillowed under his head, one untied combat boot hanging dangerously from his foot. The boy is fresh faced and too excited, which means the county probably paid for his schooling in trade that he would work for them for at least two years. It was a common practice, and the main reason why Peter never bothered learning their names, despite watching the news every morning.

Nothing particularly interesting ever happened in Beacon Hills, at least not that the general population knew about. Even for the Hale's, life was fairly mundane. However, there were few things in their sleepy little town that Peter found more mind-numbingly boring than High School. It was more than just a huge waste of time in his (admittedly superior) opinion, it would also quite possibly be the death of him one day. He'd mentioned this to Talia, more than once, but again this particular morning. That perhaps his brain will fry from soaking in all the utter stupidity around him. His sister had given him that same deadpanned, soulless look she'd perfected when they were toddlers and stared at him until he'd finally sighed in defeat.

She appeared downstairs as silently as she ever did, dropping his messenger bag straight on his stomach in a nonverbal command to get the hell up. Peter bared his teeth at her, his fingers curling around the bag as he pulled himself into a sitting position, but Talia was forever unmoved.

"We have to interrupt your daily scheduling to inform you that... a body has been found outside the local coffee shop this morning..."

Peter's interest spiked and he froze with his bag halfway on his shoulder and one foot on the floor. There hadn't been an outright murder in Beacon Hills in over 50 years. A few accidents, a few "animal maulings", but nothing like this. The obviously started reporter could barely get through the story, but Peter managed to pick out the important facts. The victim was Claire Bradshaw, a resident of BH that pretty much everyone knew. She was almsot fifty, lived alone, ran the sole flower shop in town. She baked cookies for the holidays, and delivered them door by door, even all the way out on the preserve.

There wasn't a lot of details yet, just that her body had been posed on a bench outside the shop. Mr. Serento, the owner, had thought she was asleep and went to coax her awake with a fresh brew, when he noticed the wounds on her. 'Superficial' and 'intentional' were all they knew as of now.

Peter read enough true crime novels to write this off as twisted, but normal. A human, a one-time thing, a little serial-killer ish. But something about it made the hairs on his arm stand up, and his eyes want to glow. He and Talia shared a look, and then he pushed off the couch altogether and followed her to the car.

The pack was spread out around their usual table when they arrived - Natalie at the head, fixing her make up. Raf to her right, likely arguing with Melissa who looked mildly annoyed. The sunshine twins across the table being sickeningly in love with each other. Peter hated all of them.

He tossed his bag onto the table carelessly before jerking out the chair next to Chris', twisting it around backwards, and falling into it. His fingers went into the hunter's hair, dragging a path from his hairline down the back of his neck, the barest hint of claws scraping against soft skin. "Any of you idiots watch the news this morning?" he asks, curling his fingers into the back of Chris' jacket before using his free hand to swipe an apple off his boyfriends breakfast tray. He takes a large bite and thinks while he chews, wondering just what about that particular story bothers him so much. "Who the fuck's going to make Christmas cookies now? Damn tragedy, is what it is."

J O H NxxS T I L I N S K I
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CJ started her morning the same way she did any other, running behind schedule. Today though, she blamed it on the black cat that crossed her path last week. Though, any cat would do; they were all unlucky as far as Claudia was concerned. Surely, it couldn't have anything to do with sleeping through the 4 alarms she sets at night. But, cat or no cat, she didn't have time to finish the pages of her comic she had started the previous night as she had planned.

One hand held her monogrammed travel mug, coffee sloshing against the sides, as the other hand swept through her newly darkened locks and then tucked her comic into her schoolbag. The door slammed behind her as she rushed to the car not once, not twice, but 4 separate times. The first, she realized she'd forgotten something when her bare feet hit the dewy concrete porch. Second, her hand appeared around the corner to grab her keys from the hall table. Third, Claudia returned again to find a jacket to combat the chilled morning air. Finally, the door was opened once more to shout her goodbyes to her father, who was somewhere in the bowels of their home. All in all, CJ was proud she managed to get everything in 4 trips this time.

Claudia's mood was improved upon arrive at school, something she never thought possible. Despite her late start, she'd managed to not only arrive at school on time, but she even beat John; a very rare occurrence. A short burst of pride straightened her posture as she took her 'assigned' seat at the table with a small smirk. She gave everyone hellos, but quickly turned her attention to a page from her comic to doodle on. Perhaps she should have studied for the test she had later in the day, but she'd already spent the night before doing so. Between text exchanges with her friends, of course.

Though she couldn't place it, there was a strange blanket of tension in the air that seemed to cover the students that passed into the school. She didn't have long to wonder as her wonderful, fidgeting boyfriend swooped in with a kiss. Despite the butterflies in her stomach she still got every time they touched, she shot him a sly look. From the way his legs were bouncing, he was either very nervous or very high. However, CJ thought, it could be both. Before she could make any wise remarks, Peter dropped in like a ton of bricks.

Unfortunately, Claudia hadn't had time to watch the news and had no clue what he was going on about. Between Peter and her boyfriend's exchange, she figured they were talking about 'Sweet Old Claire' as her father called the kind lady that always slipped CJ candy when she'd visit the flower shop and that whatever happened to her, it wasn't good. The girl returned John's smile, but it was tinged with confusion, "What happened to Miss Bradshaw? Did she have a heart attack or something?"

As soon as the words left her mouth, she could tell it was worse. Much worse.

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MELISSA DELGADO
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Melissa sometimes regretted setting the clock as early as she did. She missed the feeling of being able to hit the snooze button and curl back into the safety of her warm sheets, but lately she was feeling off. At first, she would push the feeling off as stress from school or Raf, but it was just different.

It didn't take her long to pick out a simple outfit that would protect her from the chilly winds of Beacon Hills. Lately she seemed to be limiting herself to t-shirts and jeans as she got farther into the school year and started caring less about the outfits she threw on in the morning. Today was no different with a cream cashmere sweater, dark skinny jeans, and her ratty brown boots that she refused to depart with. After a moment of thought she decided to tuck her long dark hair into a braid, and rubbed a bit of lavender on her wrists before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

Her mom was bustling around in a hurry, the hair from her tightly compacted bun already falling out in stray wisps around her face. "Morning Melon, I left out the cereal for you on the counter, I'm already late for my meeting with Dr. Harmon. Not to mention the town has gone to hell this morning with the horrific news". Melissa had already managed to pour herself a bowl of Cheerios and made herself comfy at the kitchen table during her mother's rant. She got in one bite of cereal before raising a slight eyebrow and setting down her spoon. "Horrific news?". Her mother tossed her purse over her shoulder and picked up her car keys, "Oh it's just awful. Poor Ms. Bradshaw was mauled by some wild animal last night, the whole town is talking about it". Melissa didn't have much time to process the news before her mother checked her watch, muttered a string of curses, and promptly flew out the door with a quick goodbye and apology.

A animal mauling. Maybe she would've believed it if she didn't know what she did. A sudden string of thoughts and ideas flashed through her head which made her all the more eager to finish her cereal and get to school. She knew this would be the first thing brought up amongst her friends, maybe Talia would know more. With a couple more spoonfuls she tossed her bowl in the sink and sped to school, verging the line of the speed limit.

It didn't take her long to find the table where most of her friends sat probably chatting about the newfound murder victim like it was the score of last night's Lacrosse game. Her eyes strayed to the open seat next to Raf, she hesitated for a moment before sitting down next to him. They had argued the night before over something stupid, again, and she wasn't in the mood for the aftereffects. She hoped that the sudden burst of news would mull the fight over and she could avoid the awkward small talk they always had after an argument.

One by one, the rest of their group showed up, even Peter, to her distaste. She was too caught up in her own little world to put her two cents into the conversation and instead grabbed a book out of her backpack that she had started on, The Beastiary. She found it in her Grandmother's basement and had read it nearly 8 times but she felt as though she understood it less and less each time.

"Any of you idiots watch the news this morning? Who the fuck's going to make Christmas cookies now? Damn tragedy, is what it is." Melissa rolled her eyes at Peter's comment and flipped a page in the book, she couldn't count on one hand how many creatures in this book could have killed Ms. Bradshaw. The thought made her close the book and pull herself into the conversation. She looked up in time to catch Claudia's comment. "She was mauled by some wild animal, or at least that's what the police are saying".

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There's something in her shadow. Footsteps echoing in the silence where her own feet refuse to lift. Frozen, not for lack of trying. Her lungs ache with every inhale, a steady thrum in her legs willing her to run. But theres nowhere to go - a dead end before her.

She's an animal cornered, heart beating to the tempo of panic. Her screams are choked out by a lack of lucidity. And when her pursuers shadow falls over her, she knows, the end has come.

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Natalie has never been so thankful for the shrill alarm that wakes her. Nightmare fading to the corners of her sleep addled mind. Already wide awake by the time she drags herself from bed to bathroom. She hopes a shower will be enough to wash away the cold panic that follows, mind still wrapped around deciphering the nightmare.

It feels like forever before the anxiety creeps away. Leaving room for purpose - a methodical morning routine rooting her to the here and now. She's thankful that nightmares don't often plague her. Usually, when they do they are part of a prediction. A precursor to a wail. This time, that doesn't seem to be the case. Dreams that predict death are usually sharper, easier to follow from beginning to end. There is no fog, and much more lucidity. Besides, she didn't wake herself, her alarm did.

A small victory in and of itself. Beacon Hills may be a hotbed of supernatural activity but Natalie has had only a few run ins with death so far. Natural, usually, and very rarely anything related to the weird little world she walks on the fringes of.

Now dressed and ready to face the day she gathers up her bag, and car keys. Scooping a pear out of the bowl set out on the kitchen table as she passes by. Her parents are most likely already at work, early risers such as herself and work-a-holics to boot. Besides, she doesn't have much to say to them these days so it doesn't really matter if they are there to see her off or not.

Natalie is the kind of person who likes to show up earlier than required, as such she forgos watching any early morning tv or listening to the early morning talk shows. The pack usually discusses whatever current events are happening, so she doesn't really need to worry about keeping up with the news. Its also something of a trait instilled in her by her parents, but not altogether a bad thing. It means that she's the first to school. First to settle into the seat at the head of their usual table. While they didn't exactly discuss seat assignments (as anal as Natalie is, its nothing short of a miracle) there is a natural order to everything, and Natalie claimed this one as hers at the very beginning.

Plus, its the best spot to be in order to see and be seen - and theres no doubts that Natalie enjoys both. Though, its notably more fun when Talia is there to full-body glare at anyone who stares at them for too long.

One by one the pack begins to trickle in, a steady stream of faces. As usual, Peter and Talia come in last; Natalie is almost annoyed but it fades almost entirely when Talia settles in next to her. They aren't big on PDA, save for the occasional public displays of shoving each other into walls - which had landed them in the office more than once and got both of them odd looks when they'd turn around and be holding hands, but Natalie shoots her a smile and locks their ankles together under the table. Only to have annoyance resurface in the form of Peter Hale.

Peters comment is just vaguely crude enough that Natalie almost misses the meaning behind the words. However, as the conversation turns it becomes startlingly clear.

"She was mauled by some wild animal, or at least that's what the police are saying." Melissa is a godsend for clarity, Natalie thinks about taking her shopping later as a thank you for being one of the only pack members who doesn't beat around the bush. But just like that, the utter annoyance at her situation returns full force. She flicks her compact mirror closed, capping the lipstick she had been applying and stuffing all of her makeup back into the purse from which it all had came.

This deserves her full attention.

"Thats not possible." She stresses each syllable, with the kind of confidence that negates all argument and just a touch of anger in her voice. "I'd have known." She knows full well that they aren't lying. There is no reason to. But that scares her even more. Maybe her abilities aren't exactly mastered yet, she hasn't had the resources or training needed to hone them, but she's never missed a death in Beacon Hills since the moment they manifested. And something like this sounds just like the kind of thing that would have triggered her abilities, mastered or not. Even with as much as she hates being a Banshee, she has never been able to stop herself from wailing. A sore point, for her, as well as for everyone who has to hear her complain about it.

Her morbid nature had never failed her before.

But maybe she had known - she did have a nightmare. And while it felt like her own, maybe it hadn't been. Maybe something was blocking her. Which posed twice as many questions in the span of a few seconds of internal thought than the original statement. All issues aside, something simply felt wrong.

Without hesitation she turns her attention to Talia, the go to for all things distressing in Natalie's life, matching her frown for frown. Even if Talia is just as clueless, its good to have someone to share her deeper worries with.

"Somethings off about this, why didn't I predict it."

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"Would you like a side of murder with your bacon?"

"Kate, no." Chris groans, sagging down into the couch seat beside her. The two of them chewing on strips of day old bacon. Gerard hadn't been home in a day or so, possibly stirring shit up elsewhere. It didn't matter that they had moved to Beacon Hills just to train, Gerard would always be willing to run off at the slightest scent of a job. Chris is just surprised he didn't drag the two of them along; his views on training the same as those people who throw their kids in the deep end to teach them how to swim.

On the TV, the local news station is flashing through photos of Ms. Bradshaw. Most of them candid, catching her in the motions of community work or conversing with the locals. Wide, warm smiles in every one of them. Of all the people to bite it...

"What, it's not like she would have lived much longer anyway she was old." Kate replies, talking over the reporter obnoxiously. Chris shot her a withering look, trying to actually listen. The details of the death far more interesting than trying to play shrink for his kid sister. Almost fifty isn't that old, anyways, and the buzzwords strung throughout the broadcast meant that this wasn't some random accident.

Intentional wounds don't bode well in any case. Specifically, the fact that none of the wounds seem to have actually contributed to her death. Chris has had enough training to realize that it means the actual cause of death isn't going to be easy to spot, not while it's overshadowed by the superficial wounds. But any medical examiner worth their salt would be able to look past them. Unfortunately, (or fortunately) Beacon Hills doesn't see cases like this often enough for anyone to come to the same realization as Chris at a first glance.

"Ugh, whatever, I'm leaving." Kates interest had finally waned, Chris waves her away. Barely catching her eye roll as she leaves. Thank god they won't be attending the same school for another year. He checks the time a few seconds later. He won't have time to watch to the end of the broadcast, but it doesn't matter anyways, he knows he can count on the pack to bring it up. Nothing this big could possibly escape their notice. He can already tell that it's going to be hot gossip around town today anyways.

Because Gerard is gone he has to walk, Kate at least gets to take the bus when he isn't around because her school is further away. But Beacon Hills high is apparently too close to their house for the bus to justify picking him up. If Chris had a car this wouldn't be an issue. But as his father always says, nothing good comes to 'slackers'.

Chris won't even bother getting pissed off when Kate gets a car as a birthday gift or some shit like that. Its just the way things work with Gerard. Chris doesn't pander to his racist (speciest?) views, so that makes Kate the better child by default. It worries him a little bit, but he doesn't have the time or patience to make sure Kate isn't following in those footsteps. Hopefully, she'll grow up one day and realize the father she idolizes isn't someone to idolize.

The walk to school passes by quickly, he jogs the last quarter of it to make sure he gets there in time to run through the breakfast line. Making sure to grab an extra apple because he knows Peter alongside a brick hard hash brown cube and a mini orange juice carton.

The table is already well occupied by the time he sits down, trying not to break his teeth on the hash brown while he waits for everyone to get there. When Peter settles in beside him, being his touchy grabby self. Chris gives him a small, barely there smile and an eyebrow raise for his troubles. "Any of you idiots watch the news this morning?" Chris is fondly annoyed in only the way that Peter can make him. "Who the fuck's going to make Christmas cookies now? Damn tragedy, is what it is." Chris is starting to wonder what Beacon Hills puts in their water to make everyone such a jokester about death.

Chris lightly shoves Peter, huffing out an inaudible sigh. The rest of the pack at least has the decency to be more concerned about it. John, sharp-eyed as ever seems to share his suspicions, and Chris knows Peter well enough to know that this is probably bothering him too. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered to bring it up. Chris is about to open his mouth and correct Melissa's information - there's no way an animal killed Ms. Bradshaw. No Mauling is that precise. When Natalie promptly starts in on the dramatics. Chris doesn't blame her for being freaked out, but she could stand to lose some of the dramatic flair. Chris shoots Peter a look that conveys real surprise. Natalie not predicting this is far too weird in addition, the fact that Ms. Bradshaw was intentionally killed and posed. Nothing that public should be this hard to solve.

"I hate to be that guy," Chris starts, mildly annoyed at being the one to have to bring this up. It only speaks volumes of what, and who he is outside of the pack. "But this is just weird enough to, I dunno, be supernatural." He hates jumping to conclusions like this, if only because it makes him sound and feel more like Gerard than he's comfortable with. But, approaching it from a point of logic makes it easier. "No animal could have made those wounds, posed her on a bench like that, and no human could prevent Natalie from being warned."

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Rafael didn't have a particularly eventful morning. He woke up at 6AM, ate some breakfast cereal, got dressed in a simple shirt, jacket and jeans and he drove his particularly meh car to school. Nothing really happened, until he heard a familiar name on the radio. Poor Ms. Bradshaw. Apparently mauled by an animal outside the local coffee shop. The first thing that strikes to his mind, before he got emotional, is what animal did it. Perhaps, it was a little bit more than an animal. The way how they said it was posed. Perhaps a werewolf, perhaps out of control would be more appropiate. Or something else entirely. Or maybe Beacon Hills' was getting a serial killer in it's midst. But, he didn't have time to have his head in the clouds, especially when he was driving.

He showed up before the other in his pack, always the earliest. Or second, due to Natalie's constant habit of being way too early for her own good. He took a seat next to two vacant openings, when the rest of the pack slowly arrive one-by-one. Melissa, then Claudia, then John, then Chris, then Talia and Peter. He gave Melissa a look as she sat beside him. He tried to apologize for being so irrational the night before. But, he tried not to be so dramatic in front of the others.

"Any of you idiots watch the news this morning? Who the fuck's going to make Christmas cookies now? Damn tragedy, is what it is." Peter sat down next to Chris, clearly not showing much empathy for the poor woman. After that, everyone voiced their concerns about the subject. "---Maybe it was just an animal." Raf knew that the theory he just spurted from his lips would be too good to be the truth, but, he kept his most complicated and outlandish items of speculation to himself most of the time. This is one of the first time during the duration of the pack's time together where he's been stumped. Maybe if he had seen the body he could come up with something.

Rafael looked to John, maybe he had something a little bit plausible, he would never admit but John was a bit smarter than he was. It wasn't to say Rafael wasn't thinking about it. Maybe it was a serial killer, maybe Natalie's banshee skills were just off this one time. And perhaps this was just out of their league.

"Maybe we should just leave this one to the police this time, guys. Unless something else happens. Maybe this is just a coincidence." This is the first time Raf would ever even suggest something like this, and deep down he knew the pack wouldn't buy it, but Rafael had a feeling that this would be too much for them this time.

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┘ Talia's usual routine for the mornings goes a little something like this.

1. Wake up early
2. Heckle Peter
3. Go to School

The addition of murder and mayhem just barely has the power to disrupt that. But, if anyone has to worry about mysterious deaths in Beacon Hills it's Talia and her pack. As such, she doesn't let anything else impede them on the way to the school. Even as her mind turns and twists around the facts presented. Usually, the drive is done in shared silence, but this time around she turns on one of the radio news stations. The conflicting details utterly typical of small town reporters. Nobody but the first responders and medical examiner will have the acute details.

They'll be lucky if even half of those details are released to the press. Making it easier for everyone to gossip and fill in the gaps with their own assumptions. Talia knows that this isn't their problem yet. For all she knows it could just be a one-off thing. A drifter even. But, she prefers to be prepared on the chance that it isn't as clear cut as it seems.

Perhaps the most striking part of the case, in Talia's opinion, is the posing of the body. Superficial wounds aside. She would almost accept the inane idea of it being an animal mauling if not for that one detail. Now, that leaves very few options for what could have possibly done it. A regular human killer. She can't imagine anyone would have a reason to kill Ms. Bradshaw. Or maybe a werewolf; but even that poses twice the amount of worries for Talia.

If it was a werewolf, it wasn't one who lost control. The body would have been more mangled, likely missing a few vital pieces. She can't even begin to guess what else it could have been. This killing, whether human or otherwise had the scent of intention all over it. Talia doesn't like it one bit. But right now, it isn't their problem. Yet.

They are the last in as usual, Talia says nothing as she settles into the seat beside Natalie. Giving her a look just above the usual deadpan. Beneath the table, their ankles lock, but on the surface they are the picture of distance. Talia never has felt the need to be publicly affectionate at school. But everywhere else was fair game, and she's sure that the people who see them around town on the weekends or after school are more than aware of their disgustingly sweet words and plain as day hand holding.

Talia waits in patient silence as the pack erupts into discussion, beginning with Peter and ending with Rafael. The amount of varying opinions doesn't surprise her, but it also doesn't sway her own very much. Right now, its a matter of watching and waiting. And while it is weird as hell that Natalie didn't predict this, it isn't altogether something that outright worries her. It could have been a one-off. Talia forgoes her usual dismissal and grips Natalie's hand, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance.

"I don't think it was an animal either," Talia agrees with Chris, mostly. "But I agree with Raf, a few weird circumstances doesn't make this our problem. Let the police do their jobs, it'll just cause more problems if we start sniffing around and it turns out to be nothing. If something else happens, or any weirder news comes to light, we'll look into it." She doesn't want to leave room for argument but Talia is fair enough that she'll listen if it comes. No doubt, Peter or Chris (or both at the same time, god forbid) will have something to say.

She's lucky enough that a good half of the pack aren't quite so ready to buck her authority as her brother or his boyfriend. Because she knows how persuasive those two can be she addresses the rest of the pack instead of them - as far as controlling every action of the pack goes, its not going to happen. So if they take this into their own hands then she wants to make sure they understand her point of view. Shes worried more about them, and their safety than one dead body.

"If any of you find something out - without direct investigation, we'll figure out where to go from there together." She lets her gaze fall on the more crafty members of the pack. Pointedly avoiding looking at Peter. Theres a clear message there. She won't stop the pack from digging, but she isn't going to be concerned about this until its proven to be something that they need to take care of.

---

---

John Stilinski was not one of Peter's favorite - or even tolerated - people on the planet, but there were occasional times when the boy stepped up to the plate, and this morning happened to be one of them. Honestly, Peter just needed someone else to acknowledge the strange feeling he was having about the Bradshaw case, and John was the first one to do that. He raised his eyebrows, impressed, and gestured to the teen with his apple before taking another bite. Like two against eight was enough for him.

The thing he did appreciate about John was his mind. Stilinski was smart, and quick - had to be, if he was going to keep up with werewolves. He was a good asset to have around when things got 'fishy', and if this escalated farther than it had already, Peter was pretty sure he'd be picking his brain about it.

Claudia, of course, knew nothing. No surprise there. But what really irritated him was fucking Melissa Delgado. Peter's upper lip moved back in a slight sneer over her dismissive page flip, but it was her words that really got to him: "She was mauled by some wild animal, or at least that's what the police are saying."

"Anyone who dies in this town is labeled an 'animal mauling' and we all know better than that by now," he points out. He knows she knows it too, given the fucking book she's got in her hands. He wonders if she enjoys being daft on purpose, because she sure is good about it. His hand is still curled around the collar of Chris' jacket but he switches positions subtly so he can fan his fingers across the boys neck instead, feel the warmth of skin-on-skin contact and the comfort of mine. He was worse about public display than Talia was, if only because his desire to scent mark was higher. Chris always came to school smelling like gunpowder and second-hand bigotry and Peter was generally determined to cover that up. It had nothing to do with the fact that he needed the physical closeness himself. Not at all.

He's just on the verge of muttering something else sarcastic when a distinct click catches his ears, and his gaze turns towards Natalie. She's putting her make-up away decisively, sitting up a little straighter, and Peter rolls his eyes dramatically. He wants to ask her if she'd deemed their conversation important enough to grace with her Holier Than Thou presence, but just as he opens his mouth she says something of actual importance.

"That's not possible. I'd have known."

Peter tenses, his grip on the back of Chris' neck tightening ever so slightly. He'd wanted people to agree with him, sure, but Natalie's dismissal meant a whole lot more than his weird feeling. All it took was six words for Peter to go from 'one odd serial killer-ish incident' to 'supernatural fuck up'.

He glances Chris' way to see his own surprise mirrored in his boyfriend's blue eyes. He lets the hunter speak the words they're both thinking, and takes another bite out of the apple to hide his own curious expression. Why indeed he thinks on Natalie's last question, even if it had been directed to his sister instead of him.

He didn't even bother looking Rafael's way when the the beta threw in his two-cents. He wasn't in the mood to deal with disagreeing, ignorant pups anyway, so ignoring him would be better for everyone involved. He supposes he can't really blame the group as a whole. The details he'd gotten that morning and the details he and Talia had heard on the radio going to school had been conflicting, but he had to admit he'd expected more from the pack.

"I don't think it was an animal either." Peter has about five seconds of thinking his sister is perfect and of course they share blood, to thinking he's got to be adobted again when she finishes with - "But I agree with Raf, a few weird circumstances doesn't make this our problem. Let the police do their jobs, it'll just cause more problems if we start sniffing around and it turns out to be nothing. If something else happens, or any weirder news comes to light, we'll look into it."

"Let the police do their jobs," he mocks under his breath with a snort. Yeah right, like the police in Beacon Hills are worth anything other than a box of donuts and heartburn. He's pretty sure the current Sheriff got the job because no one else wanted it, and isn't even sure the old idiot has a high school diploma.

She's not using her Alpha Voice, but her tone clearly states she's not looking for an argument. He gets where she's coming from - protect the pack, don't worry about things that aren't there's to worry about. But Peter's always been more of a fan of cutting off a problem at the source, rather than allowing it to grow and cause more damage.

She's not stopping them from digging, just from actively investigating, and she's not talking to him either, or Chris. Not really. He finishes off his apple and aims the core into a near by trashcan, licking his lips and humming in consideration. He'd started this morning mildly interested, but now he was sharply curious, and when he tilts his head back to look at Chris again he doesn't even have to speak to get his message across.

They were looking into this. The pups could join them or not, Peter didn't give a fuck. But he had questions, and he wanted them answered, and he knew Chris was right there with him.

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This entire conversation is getting them nowhere.

Natalie squeezes Talia's hand, surprised at the small show of PDA, but not at all impressed with her declaration. Couldn't she see? This already crossed over into their realm. This was their problem. If Talia couldn't see that now, then when would she? This had become annoying, her head hurt with the beginning of a stress headache, and the clock is slowly ticking down the time until class began.

She'd be more worried about class if she didn't suddenly have her own mystery to solve. And if she had any guess, the rest of the Pack would be on her side as well. If not, then there was always...god, Chris and Peter. As loathe as she is to align herself with their brand of investigation.

Knowing that they wouldn't get anywhere without some show of assent to Talia, she nodded her head. A blatant lie in and of itself and she felt vaguely bad about it. But if Talia thought she'd stand idly by then she wouldn't have issued a non-order. "I think we've argued enough for the day," Natalie makes a show of glancing at her wrist watch, "Classes are starting." She stands, usually she and Talia would walk together but Natalie had something else to do today, without Talia there to hear her.

"I've got to go grab something from my locker, you should get to class," She leaned in for a swift peck, squeezing the others hand one last time before leaving. She dropped her trash in the can as she went by and only belatedly remembering that she hadn't quite finished applying her makeup. Oh well.

Natalie made sure to head in the direction of her locker as Talia split off towards her first class. But turned around just as soon as she was out of sight, waiting for the two heathens to emerge as well. A steady stream of students had begun to head towards their first classes, so Natalie didn't feel too paranoid about speaking out in the open. As soon as Chris and Peter came out she stepped in front of them, arms crossed. Her very best expression of annoyance written loud and clear on her face.

"I know you two aren't going to let this slide," They'd exchanged plenty of glances between each other in the lunchroom, Natalie had known them long enough to know what that meant. Even if she was utterly annoyed by it. Chris at least wasn't too bad on his own. It was Peter that really got to her, and not just because he's an insufferable prick.

"And I also know you've got your own thing going," She rolls her eyes a bit, "but from where i'm standing this is my issue too; I want in." As she spoke, it became apparently clear that there would be no taking "no" for an answer here. Either she would be helping, or she would be doing it all on her own. She's banking on the fact that Chris is more likely to care about the rest of the pack. Where as she already knows Peters stance on them.

Besides, they'd need all the help they could get.