Everything or Nothing

Chapter 4: Day After Day

“We need to talk to the sheriff.”

Stiles freezes, whipping his head around to the entrance. Stumbling off of the wall, he inches closer and slaps at Scott’s shoulder. “Dude, are you seeing this?”

“Seeing what?” Scott demands, turning around and smacking Stiles’ hand away.

“Dude - right there. Park Rangers,” Stiles points out, gesturing towards the two lingering by the entrance hall. They’re both standing with their backs straight and their chins up - confident and demanding as they stare down the deputy put on door duty.

“I’m sorry, but the sheriff’s currently busy with another matter. I can set you up with someone else as soon as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Look, I don’t care what the hell the sheriff is doing right now. I will stand here for the rest of the night until he comes to see me - alright?”

“Listen, I’m sorry about whatever your situation is, but he’s busy. Just tell me what you need.”

“I need the goddamn sheriff. Where the hell is he?"

“He’s handling another situation at the moment. Either tell me what you need or come again tomorrow.”

One of the park ranger’s throws their hands up, stopping the conversation all together. The woman, who had been quiet during the other’s demands, steps up closer to the desk Shelly lingers behind. What she mumbles is nondescript - nothing but a breath upon her lips to anyone without supernatural hearing. Scott squints at them, blocking out the screaming rant Jackson’s father is spewing at Stiles’ dad.

“I get you’re doing your job. I’m doing mine. Get me the sheriff, or a lot of people are going to die. It’s not a threat, okay? It’s a promise. Because I can promise what is out there,” briefly, the brunette flicks her hands out towards the forests decorating Beacon Hills’ lands, “will kill a lot of people. And if I can’t get that footage out and those woods closed off? It’s not on me - it’s on you. And it’s on the sheriff. So. Get me. The goddamn. Sheriff.”

Shelly stays silent, her eyes locked onto the woman leaning on her desk - posed as if she’s talking to an old friend. The ranger’s eyes are hard, determined - scared. Briefly, Shelly’s eyes flit over to the interrogation room housing the sheriff and lawyer. The ranger follows the move, slowly leaning away with a simple nod down at the deputy. Then, abruptly, she’s spinning around fast enough to make her hair fly behind her - marching right towards Stiles and Scott. Stiles sputters, fumbling to get out of the way as the brunette goes stomping past him. Her partner isn’t too far behind, his face set carefully into a smile as he glances over the boys by the door.

“Sheriff,” the woman bites out, cutting out Whitmore’s rant. “I need your attention for a moment. Preferably in a private area.”
Stiles peaks in, grimacing as his dad runs a hand over his face - his wrinkles emphasized and his eyes drooping down. Still the sheriff everyone knows, the man stands tall and looks back at the rangers. “Look, I’m in the middle of something, ma’am. One of my officers will gladly offer some help.”

“I’m in the middle of fixing his mess, okay? My son-”

“I don’t care,” the woman cuts in again, glaring down Whitmore to silence him. When his mouth shuts with a snap, she moves her attention back to the sheriff.  “This is more important than some petty dispute between teenagers, or whatever the hell is happening here. This is about the safety of everyone you know - right now.”

Noah’s brows are starting to climb his forehead, his eyes darting between the occupants of the small room. Whitmore’s pacing, running his hands through his hair as he glares at the rangers. But the latter are steady, unmoving and solid as they stare back at Noah. Drawing in a long sigh, Noah darts his eyes over the teens standing in his doorway, glaring down at his son before moving his attention to the lawyer. “Look, I’m sorry about my son’s behavior. He will be paying for it greatly - beyond even what the contract says. I’m sorry, again, but I think I need to deal with this new problem.”