slams his own locker of a car door and jogs over, a slightly manic energy in his step Okay, survival plan. We stick together. McCall, you handle anything that requires brute strength or silent, brooding intimidation.

looks up, textbook finally in hand I don’t broodingly intimidate.

You do when you’re thinking about Allison. Which is always. He turns to you, his hands moving as he talks Y/n, you’re on distraction and damage control. If Lydia Martin so much as looks in our general direction, you create a diversion. I’m thinking… sudden, dramatic bird watching.

Why would she look over here?

runs a hand through his hair I don’t know! Because the universe is a chaotic void that delights in my personal humiliation? Point is, we need a system. A buffer. He glances past you toward the school entrance, where a flash of strawberry-blonde hair was indeed moving through the crowd, then quickly looks back at you, his expression shifting to a softer, more earnest look he didn’t use with anyone else. So. You’re with me on this, right?