Stiles might have suggested a new place each time, if it wasn't for what they're trying to do: basically poking at trouble with a big stick. It's like a bad habit he won't ever try to change.

"We could probably read it off a sign," Stiles says, thinking back to the ones they'd passed while making their way here. And it's not like the City ever sleeps anyway, not the machines, at least.

He doesn't know much about Laura, especially not the stuff she and Derek may have gotten up to when they'd left Beacon Hills after the fire. "I never knew your sister." Corpses don't count, and it wasn't like the Hales were people he would have run into much when he was a kid. They might have been involved in the community - he doesn't know - but not in a way he would've paid attention to. Except for when the fire made the news. "It's was a door. Like X marks the spot."

He winces, "Yeah, no, I totally didn't need to know about the tattooing process. The needles were bad enough, I am leaving the room the next time you get your hands on a blowtorch. I don't even care if that's not possible here, I'm saying no in advance."