Stiles walked towards the map Booker had laid out. It was crude but he managed to memorize a few routes here and there. Stiles turned his attention back to the bottle of vodka. The memories that alcoholic drink holds in Stiles' mind are numerous. The only good one that he cares to remember is how Delilah would come home and hum him his favorite song. Stiles could only get her to sing the song while Delilah was drunk. It's the only way he can remember his mother's face. Delilah is quite the singer while intoxicated, every note on pitch, vibrant and bright. Her voice is comparable to that of a siren's, always drawing in Stiles' ears, the song always brought a calming sensation to him.

Stiles shook himself from his daze and looked to Jaquelyn. "You always clean up after everyone?" He spoke softly.