Malia tenses, just a little, when Derek's eyes flash red. Her own flash blue in response, and she looks between them. "You might be able to help," she says. "But I know when I'm not wanted." She shakes her head and takes a half-step back: she was barely in the apartment to begin with, hovering on the threshold, and now she's back in the corridor.

"I'll figure something out." She looks at Stiles. "Goodbye." Hurt flashes briefly across her face, but she quashes it. This isn't his fault. This isn't Derek's fault. It's no one's fault, and that makes her the maddest of all. She can't blame anyone.

She clenches her jaw, then just nods once and turns to leave.