⠀⠀⠀Stiles goes downstairs and collects a bottle of water from the fridge and an old metal bowl from the cupboard beneath the sink. He carries his haul back upstairs, pouring some of the water into the bowl as he walks.
⠀⠀⠀"I brought you some water," Stiles announces, holding up the plastic bottle in display before making a show of pouring the rest of the contents into the dog water bowl in his other hand.
⠀⠀⠀He places the bowl down on the floor in front of Scott, satisfied by the scowl on his face, and returning his glare before turning to leave the room. 
⠀⠀⠀He flinches at the impact of the cold water and lightweight metal against his shoulder when Scott throws the bowl at his retreating back.
⠀⠀⠀"I'm gonna kill you!" Scott screams angrily.
⠀⠀⠀Stiles takes a deep breath, glaring at the wall in the hallway for a few seconds before back-spinning around to face his friend.
⠀⠀⠀"You kissed her, Scott!" Stiles finally yells, his dam of self-control and composure blasting open, "Okay? You kissed Brietta. That's my—. That's like the one girl that I ever—! I thought that we—!" He huffs angrily through his nose before continuing, "And you know? The past three hours I've been thinking, it's probably just the full moon, y'know? He doesn't even know what he's doing, and tomorrow he'll be totally back to normal. He probably won't even remember what a complete dumbass he's been. A son of a bitch. A fucking unbelievable piece of shit friend!"
⠀⠀⠀Stiles takes a much-needed breath after his rant, and Scott lifts his head with a dark look. "She kissed me," Scott tells him with a devilish grin.
⠀⠀⠀Stiles deflates slightly, his stomach filling with a hollow sadness at the words. He swallows and clenches his jaw, gearing himself up to respond when someone else speaks first.
⠀⠀⠀"Excuse me?" A harsh voice cuts in from behind him.
⋅ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ⟡ ⚔ ⟡ ˚｡ ･ ─── ⋅
BRIETTA TAKES A DEEP BREATH BEFORE STEPPING INTO THE RESIDENTIAL HOME, the automatic doors whirring open as they sense her movements.
⠀⠀⠀A warm gust of air envelops her as she strides purposefully towards the front desk, where Mr. Doyle is staring at his computer in confusion. Brietta's eyebrows furrow as she observes him leaning into the computer as if that would change anything.
⠀⠀⠀"Computer problems?" Brietta guesses, pulling her hands out of her jacket pockets to lean on the front desk. Mr. Doyle turns to Brietta and gives her a strained smile. "Camera problems."
⠀⠀⠀"Camera problems?" Brietta frowns, tilting her head.
⠀⠀⠀"Yeah," Mr. Doyle lets out a stressed breath, his eyes flickering towards the computer beside him. "There's some footage missing from the video surveillance." He groans, "It's not your problem." With that, he turns around and heads towards the file cabinet to retrieve the visitors log.
⠀⠀⠀Brietta offers Mr. Doyle a sympathetic smile as he hands her a pen. She quickly scribbles her name onto the log before handing it over to Mr. Doyle, who then hands her a visitor sticker. "I hope everything works out," Brietta hums, placing the sticker on the breast of her jacket and waving to Mr. Doyle as she heads to Peter Hale's room.
⠀⠀⠀She opens the door and finds Peter in the same spot he always occupies. When she had asked his attendant if she puts him in his bed at night, the attendant said that she does, but that Peter prefers a window seat during the day. Brietta finds it peculiar since, well, Peter can't talk, but perhaps the attendant has a magic touch with him.