She tried really hard not to smirk at the little smiley face he tacked on the end there, but she was amused. She didn't go home and change, because honestly she didn't care what she looked like. Why should she care? Everyone that recognized her now knew that she didn't always wear black sweatpants and racer back tank tops. Plus, she didn't give Stiles enough time for her to go home and change. So when he arrived she was already in the booth. Her hands clutching to the napkin dispenser, using the reflective surface to try and clean off some of the blood that she hadn't realized was still on her bottom lip and forehead.

Oops.

She doesn't see him enter, and keeps dipping the edge of her napkin into her water glass to tug at her skin and remove the rest of the flaky dry blood. Her hair is up in a high ponytail, straightened from earlier in the day but the sweat and the activity has made the undersides of her hair start to wave and curl again. A few strands dropping near her temple were already starting to show that crimped wave that she always had trouble with.