"Right. Part of high school to tackle your own team mates on the field." Isaac doesn't even bother trying to hide the eye roll. Trust Stiles to see the glass as half full. "I've backed off, Stiles, you know I have. But enough is enough. I won't sit there and watching him tackle you to the ground every chance you get. Might be a bruise today. But it could be a broken rib or fracture spine tomorrow."

Isaac turns his hand over and stretches his fingers out, putting the ball in Stiles' court as far as making further contact. "How bad are you hurt?"