Stiles notices the slow, careful way that Apollo drives. He resists the urge to slam his skull into the headrest repeatedly; not only does the guy have the attitude of an old man, but he operates vehicles like one too. Maybe that’s why he has such intense anger issues—they build up under that old man polite exterior until Apollo is just bursting with emotion. Sucking back a sigh, Stiles begins to play with the lock of the car door. Click. Click. Click.

“Hey, that totally did not happen. Pretty sure an old lady would remember if she were tackled.”

If Stiles has any lingering guilt over that incident, it doesn’t show. Spoilers: He doesn’t.

“So let me get this straight… You’re offering me a job…to pay me…to pay you?”