Author’s Note: It was posted elsewhere, but it’s been proofread since, and I'm switching over to posting here instead.
He knows she’s coming down the hall from the look one of his boys gets on his face, and he knows he should just ignore her – like she’s been him – but he can’t help it. When he sees her he notices the stupidest things, like no only is she alone, but she doesn’t look like one of them. Her clothes still jeans and dark tones shirt, not pink and short skirts. Her look is still confidence, not some approximation of coy innocence. And her aura is still back off, badass, not the god given superiority of birthright. He covers his appraisal with a condescending once over, and makes damn sure the satisfaction at his conclusions doesn’t show.
He can see the moment she remembers who she is now, or at least where she thinks she belongs. Her spine stiffens, her chin raises a fraction of an inch and her eyes lock forward. He turns his attention back to his boys as her back retreats, but he keeps her in his sight.
He knows she thinks he made her choose sides, but she did that herself. He had no problem with her living in the middle ground, as long as she considered all sides equally. Even if she doesn’t realize it, she was helping hold the peace last year. Dealing not only with when he directly faced off against them over the poker game, but also making sure several of them saw justice.
The only problem is he’s sure she didn’t see it like that; she thought she was against the 09ers. He accused her once of thinking she was this big outsider, but he sees now the truth in those words. Just as he watches her now fool herself into thinking she’s one of them. The problem with Veronica Mars is that she doesn’t understand who she is, but – just like everything else - she’ll figure it out. And he just hopes he’s around to see when it happens.