Role-Play Log

Archived Log

Emitter: N/A




Scott Howard



Scott McCall's Pack



"Hungry Like the Wolf" by Duran Duran


The Werewolf Prince visits Beacon Hills. The local pack reacts.

August 6, 2015
Beacon Hills, Warehouse District

Beacon Hills - Warehouse District

The Warehouse District is named for the heavy industry that once dominated the area. Many of the large buildings here are indeed converted and warehouses, which has made this part of town home to a mixture of industrial and mechanical businesses--auto shops, big outlet stores, and at least one used car dealership--as well as the edgier side of counterculture, including tattoo and piercing parlors, underground music venues, and popular night spots, such as the city's popular gay bar, The Jungle, and the more mixed-crowd Sinema.

This area is enclosed by the downtown area, south of Main Street, in the north, and sub-divided by the crossroads of Sate Boulevard, Falls Street, and Oakwood Drive, also broken up by Old West Road that runs along the rail yards. To the west, the East Hills River encloses the area, spanned by Industry Bridge. To the east, the city dissolves into outskirts, eventually ending in the treeline of the surrounding forest.

It bothered him, to be away from Washington state. Things were going marvelously there. So much better than he had possibly hoped, at least this soon. He never really accounted for failure, but he had anticipated months’ worth of time to have reached the level of trust and access the Quileute tribe was giving him. Part of him still wondered why, it was a wild card and he loathed them. But it did afford him a chance to pursue another agenda he had started before coming this far west.

He had visited Nebraska, heard what he needed to from the father and the girl. At the very minimum, he knew what direction the boy had left in. Then yesterday he had got a call. He knew a guy, as he always seemed to, that passed through Beacon Hills California recently. The boy had been seen there, likely trying to lay low. Understandably, under the circumstances really. But it wouldn't help, every action has consequences in life.

It hadn't taken long really to find Scott Howard. It was as if a little bird had just told Jason where he was. Once it was narrowed down to such a small town, well. The rest was easy really, all to easy. That was the part that concerned him the most though. Now he watched his quarry, totally and perfectly hidden as he stalked him. Waiting for the right time to approach. If it could be said there ever really was a right time for consequences.

Laying low. That was the plan at least. He hadn't expected to run into Werewolf Central. At least so far, other than some initial hostility it had been fairly relaxed. He'd even been allowed to crash at one of their houses for now. But he knew that The Wolfmobile might attract attention. So the plan was to get it from where it had run out of gas just outside of town and at least stash it in the werehouse distract or something. Ethan had already offered to give him a ride and scrounge up a gas can. Once she was gassed up... the pair headed back into the warehouse distract where a ugly green delivery-style van wouldn't attract a lot of attention. Scott backed it up into a dead end alley and then climbed out the driver side and up ontop of the van. "Thanks for the help, Ethan... you want a T-Shirt from the back."

There's another vehicle in the area, in this case a 1980 Jeep CJ-5. Occupying the driver's seat is one Stiles Stilinski, currently in a state of moderate agitation and focusing on his phone, which he taps at furiously, apparently embroiled in some sort of drama known only to the likes of teendom. As yet, he's unaware of the other events unfolding around him. Muttering as he taps in another message, he says, "Freakin' smart-ass."

[Phone] Stiles texts: So WTH was that tweet from the other night? (to Ethan Carver)

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: whats up stilinski?

[Phone] Stiles texts: Know what NM. I'll ask in person.

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: spill man. what tweet? the one about...oh sht. i'll fix it.

[Twitter] @Wildthing1: Chill, @StilesBH24, was a joke.

[Phone] Stiles texts: Better.

[Twitter] @Wildthing1: Like anyone would believe I'd get freaky with you. #flyingsolo #stilinksisdelusional

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: better?

[Phone] Stiles texts: Thanks.

[Twitter] @DevilUKno: @Wildthing1 @StilesBH24 you 2 are weird

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: doesn't change that your @ss is hot.

[Phone] Stiles texts: Where r u guys? Bored.

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: howard's van, parked near the old argent warehouse. you talk to liam today?

[Phone] Stiles texts: No. U better talk 2 him soon.

[Phone] Ethan Carver texts: did this morning. did NOT mention you or the hell's angel. i'd like very much to keep it between us. it would only hurt liam to know. please?

[Phone] Stiles texts: No worries. Secret's safe.

Ethan Carver hops out of the van as well, decked out in tight jeans, a tighter muscle shirt, and a leather jacket. "Nah, it's cool...Wait, you're serious?" He peers at Howard on top of the van, eyes slowly narrowing. "You do, don't you? You have actual Teen Wolf t-shirts." Then his eyes light with a delightfully wicked idea, lips curling in a grin. "You know what? I'll take one. Uh, medium, if you've got it. In fact, lemme have a bunch of them. I'll even pay you." Stuffing a hand down is front pocket with some difficulty (the jeans really are a bit too tight), he fishes out a small bundle of bills in a moneyclip.


Scott narrows his eyes as he sits up on the sofa. It's a sofa that definitely is not his. And he's probably on top of someone, considering the way there's squirming and some kind of annoyed groaning coming from the sofa.

And there's the bit where McCall is shirtless and reaching for his phone. Which has quite a few text messages on it. "Really? Really?" His fingers slide across his screen in speed-texting teenager style before his attention is drawn back to whomever is still laying on the sofa with the puppy-dog apologetic look in his eyes. His head tilts and everything.

"Don't be mad. You can't be mad, okay? But I gotta' go. It's..." Scott looks even more apologetic. "... Stiles." That should explain it enough.

His shirt gets tossed at his face.

[Phone] Stiles texts: You really gotta meet this new wolf. Also a Scott. Weird. (to Scott McCall)

[Phone] Scott McCall texts: Busy. Do I have to? Right now?

[Phone] Stiles texts: OMG. Do I want to know what UR doing?

[Phone] Scott McCall texts: I can't find my winky face emoji. So: Winky Face.

[Phone] Stiles texts: No worries. Secret's safe.

[Phone] Now texting Scott McCall.

[Phone] Stiles texts: Dog. UR a dog wolf.

[Phone] Scott McCall texts: Seriously. Do I need to put my shirt on?

[Phone] Stiles texts: Don't let me interrupt. OMW to meet him now. He's with Ethan. What could go wrong?

[Phone] Scott McCall texts: ... I hate you. See you soon.

[Phone] Stiles texts: Emoji-kiss

Was it a trick of the wind just then? Or was it in fact a voice? So quiet it is just the slightest breath of a breeze to unenhanced hearing. ""Ssssccott Howwwward." There is nothing for several seconds, but the actual breeze. Then it comes again, louder this time, slightly more distinct. "Ssssccott Howwwward." But the voice is disembodied, as if coming from every direction at once. "Ssssccott Howwwward. I've been looking for you." From deep in the shadow's of one of the warehouses, there is the exagerated sound of foot falls growing closer. "I've been looking for you, Teen Wolf, and now I've found you, at lasssstt." In the shadows, two orbs of glowing yellow appear. The color of the autumn moon, they are nearly twelve feet in the air, and look like nothing so much as something's eyes. Then they are gone, just as the foot falls seem to grow loudest.

Jason Christopher steps out of the shadows, and cants his head to the side slightly, taking in the sight of the van and those around it. A smile tugs at one corner of his lips, exposing slightly elongated and noticeably sharp teeth. The smile, it contains no trace of humor at all. Nor for that matter do his eyes. Eyes the color of moonlight, which burn with the intensity of a blast furnace. "You have been a very, very, bad wolf." His voice never wavers, or fluctuates in pitch, tone, or volume. Yet somehow there is a quality to it of effortless, ice water down the spine, intimidation. It remains quiet, just above a whisper really, but reverberates with a nearly palpable power just the same. The voice of someone not accustomed to just being listened to, though surely that. But rather being

"Dude... I'm your hook-up. Just try not to wear them in public. Trying to lay low... remember. That's why I didn't have you drive so I could do some van surfing." Scott grinned as he slipped off the roof and back into the driver's side... though he pops his head back out a moment later. "Medium? Seriously? Okay." Scott chuckles and ventures into the back looking to see what's still back there. "I have the remains of Stiles's...." Scott pauses a moment just in case this town's Stilinski could hear him. "My Stiles's supplies. Since I kinda ahem.... borrowed the van when I boogied." Scott tosses a white shirt from the back towards Ethan. It features a stylized werewolf face and paws with 'Teen Wolf' under it. "Sure... I could use the cash. At least until I get a job around here or something." Scott wonders as a few more shirts get launched towards Ethan from the back.

Scott froze though as his keen werewolf hearing catches his name on the breeze. Unlike the rest of his powers... his senses still operate in this form. Unlike his Dad, he doesn't have as much experience shutting those things out. "Ethan... did you hear that?" Scott scrambles back ontop of the van and his eyes flash red... as he's scanning the area with his werewolf vision as well now. Once the footfalls start and the twin yellow eyes appear Scott shifts the rest of the way into his full-on 'Teen Wolf' form and a rolling growl rises up from his throat. Scott doesn't leap to attack but he does snarl when the man calls hm a bad wolf. "Who the hell are you... Dicknose?!" God... is he borrowing lines from Stiles now?

The jeep had rumbled to life once the response came through, and Stiles got Ethan's actual location. So, by the time Scott Howard is rooting around for "supplies" and The New Alpha in Town starts doing his best slasher flick impression, the jeep pulls to a stop nearby. He squints over at the van--what in the hell is that? From Stiles' perspective, it's just a giant shadow, but something about it is just a lot too Peter Hale-shaped for his comfort zone. Clicking on his high-beams, he does what might not be the smartest thing: he slams his hand on the horn as hard as he can, hoping to insert some distraction into the situation. Rolling down the window with his free hand, he shouts over at the group:

"What the hell is that? Did you do that?!"

Then he grabs his phone, once more tapping away furiously.

[Phone] Stiles texts: Get here fast. Something's up. (to Scott McCall)

Ethan Carver begins sorting through the bills, folding three twenties, then stuffing the rest back into his pocket. "Let's see, the medium is for Liam. Probably better have a large for McCall and Stilinski. Oh, and Miller, might as well get one for--" His voice cuts off when his back pocket begins vibrating. He grabs the shirt Howard tosses him, as he digs out his smartphone and begins texting. "Just gimme five or six larges, and I'll...Aw, Stilinski, you dork." His thumbs fly over the small screen, sending and receiving texts rapidly. Oh, and Tweets too. Even as he texts, he carries on speaking to Howard. "Do I even wanna know what van surfing is? Gotta be some Nebraska thing, right? We really need to get you a better set of whee--" Again, his voice cuts off, but this time due to the whispered voice in the wind. Immediately, Ethan looks up, eyes flashing bright blue, as he scans the surroundings, trying to find the source of the sound. "Who's there?" he demands, tossing both his phone and the shirt onto the van's passenger seat. "Show yourself!" He brings up an arm to shield his enhanced eyes from the Jeep's high beams, scowling at Stiles. "Way to light us up for the enemy, Stilinski! Turn those off!"

By the time we catch up with Scott McCall he's on the outside of a house that is clearly not his. He's tucking his phone into his jacket and locking his helmet around his head. One foot kicks off his dirt bike into an ignition and he revs it for a quick moment. One stylish cinematic donut later and Scott lifts his head and there's that look of heroic determination in his eyes before the dirt bike peels off down the street.

The door of the house closes reluctantly after him.

Jason Christopher smirks and starts to aproach the van, dismissing Scott's phase with a roll of his eyes. "Phase back, before you embarass yourself any more. I am Jason Christopher, of the house of Lupus. Prince of werewolves." he chuckles and smirks again. "In exile. And you, you are Scott Howard the Teen Wolf." His eyes narrow to that blast furnace gaze again. "A very foolish pup, who thought it wise to flaunt what you were. So to you, I am the message of consequences. All actions in life come with them and-"


Jason Christopher pauses, and slowly looks at the jeep, and it's aggitated driver. He scents at the air, and his eyebrows furrow. Human? But something more as well and with other scents intermingled. Werewolves to be certain, several in fact. But more. . o 0 (A banshee? Hells I haven't encountered one of them in nearly a century. Other scents as well...What is it about this place that draws so many creatures here? Dammit, I don't have the time to investigate now. But I will. Soon.) Ethan's blue eyes also get his attention as well. Now that, that is interesting. That is VERY interesting. "Blow that horn again, and I will take that jeep apart around you." Again the intimidation washes through his voice like a splash of cold water as he turns back to Scott Howard. "Did you think, honestly imagine, that a change of address would fix this? Do you have any idea what you have set in motion?" He slowly shakes his head, lips tightening together. "Allow me, to explain it to you."

"I don't care if you're Jason Priestly of the International House of Pancakes or Prince his royal Purpleness. You're not he boss of me... chuckles." Scott growls again, clearly not even aware there is some pecking order of werewolves. But then his bloodline is unique and Dad didn't really fill him in on much. "My bloodline didn't exactly come with a handbook. If it did, I lost it like the Great American Hero." Enough 80's references for everyone yet? "You wanna dance.... we can dance." Scott gets momentarily blinded by Stilinski hitting the high beams... but his other senses at least compensate.

And when The Prince turns to look towards Stiles... Scott does something incredibly stupid and leaps off the roof of the van and at Jason with a growl. At least he can feel a lil better about himself by getting in a few licks? Maybe? Scott is smaller and faster most likely. So at least he has that going for him. "Do you always talk so much?" Scott growls and slashes. "In love with your voice?"

Cursing under his breath and pulling a snarl that would be intimidating on a werewolf (but just looks amusing on him), Stiles kills the lights and his jeep's engine. He reaches into the back seat, and then he leaps out of the car dramatically... to no particular dramatic effect, but it made him feel better. And he's brandishing the bat. Mustering a show of courage he doesn't fee, he points his steel bat at the mysterious newcomer and shouts, "Back off, princess!" Then, in a tone of pure exasperation, he adds, "God, aren't wolves supposed to respect territory or something? Beacon Hills has two alphas! You'd think it'd make a difference." Then, calling over to Ethan and Howard, he says, "Scott's on the way! Should I call Derek?" His mind flicks to Lance, but--no. That would definitely end in bloodshed, and either way, that's not something Stiles wants to see happen.

Ethan Carver leaps up onto the hood of the Jeep (he can apologize to Stiles later...maybe) as he whips off his leather jacket and begins flexing. Oh, and phasing as well, because that's at least useful. "Hey! Nobody threatens Stilinski but me!" Wait, that didn't come out right. Oh well, he knows what he meant. Glancing toward the man-boy in question, he says firmly, "Stay in the car." By the time he looks back, the Teen Wolf has leaped upon the Lord of the Dance...Prince of Werewolves, whatever. "Aw, dammit, Howard," he mutters, taking several long breaths to keep himself calm. This is not how this evening was supposed to go. "You better call Hale, I guess. This could get ugly," he says to Stiles, before ripping his shirt in half and leaping into the fray, claws slashing.

[Phone] Stiles dials Derek Hale's number.

[Phone] Someone picks on the other end.

[Phone] Derek Hale says, "Stiles."

[Phone] Stiles says, "Derek! You've gotta get to the Warehouse District--by the old Argent Arms warehouse. There's someone--god, he looks just like Peter did as an alpha, but bigger. Scott's coming, but this could get brutal."

[Phone] Derek Hale says, "On my way."

[Phone] Derek Hale ends the call.

Dirt Bike skids to a halt and there's probably a moment that people get to hear that happening. The sound of the bike clanging and skidding across the ground is definitely able to be heard. The rider, though, is nowhere to be found. For some odd reason.

Those with the senses, though, can likely tell that there's a new werewolf in the fray. Rough boots land on the hood of The Jeep and a familiar helmet drops next to them, before rolling off the jeep and down to the ground.

"Stop!" Scott McCall's voice rings out over the fray that has suddenly began. Just moments before his arrival too, go figure. "STOP!" Scott's breathing has started to get a little bit more heavy. He's really trying to keep his composure here. He's really trying not to actually allow himself to let those eyes of his glow. If he can just get them to stop and talk...

Jason Christopher moves like quick silver, clasping his hands behind his back as he spins easily away from the attack, his jacket flaring out and then settling back down. Avoiding Scott Howard with martial skills learned and practiced over better than 400 years of life. Quite literally the skills of a ninja. He does not however, so much as raise a hand against him. Then even as Scott McCall arrives, and Stiles continues his impotent threats, he is gone. Just fades away into nothing once again and just continues to explain in the disembodied ghost voice again. The truth is much worse than anything he could physically do to him anyway.

"You exposed yourself, not just to your little town in Nebraska. But to the world and by that I mean OUR world. The only one that matters worth a damn in this case." He shakes his head and nearly spits the next words. "My father, the Volturi, possibly even others. They WILL come for you now." He stops moving and lets the next words truly sink in. "They will start in Nebraska, and murder anything in their path. They are uniquely gifted in making scenes of mass slaughter appear as accidents, or natural disasters. They will wait until a storm, perhaps. Then everyone will mourn the following day and wonder where the freak tornado came from that killed so many. Then they will come here. I found you, and without undo difficulty. They will as well. With ease. And when they find THIS town, with all that it contains. The death toll will be staggering, unimaginable. Coming here, you have managed to kill not one, but two quaint little American towns. At any other time, I might actually be impressed." He shrugs and smiles that humorless smile again. "Might be."

He appears on top of the van itself where Scott leaped from. Taking a breath he laughs at all the theatrics and phasing. "Do you have any notion of how easily you'd die if I wanted that? Fools. You wouldn't even feel it as I tore out your still beating hearts. You wouldn't know until you saw the empty cavities in your chests." He says it as if many people have experienced just that before. "I am warning you about others that will come here. That will, not, exercise my exceptional patience or restraint." He casually leaps off the side of the van, vanishing once again from sight. Reappearing on the edge of the warehouse roof. "They have gifts, not unlike I do. You are not prepared to face them." He pauses and smiles faintly, eyes shifting between Scott Howard and Ethan. "But you could be, perhaps." . o 0 (Is it worth it? Are they worth it. Would they be useful when the time comes. Only one way to truly know.) "I could teach you, if you are willing to learn. There is so much more to being a wolf than you know." He smiles, as his eyes start to glow more. Something, is happening to him.

Scott's werewolf form isn't exactly the biggest, scariest, or most wolfish around. In fact, maybe 'Mini WereChewbacca' might be a better description. Scott usually not one for fighting... but so far everytime he's shown his face in this town someone wants to punch it or claw it. So you might say he's a bit on edge. Especially if someone self-described Prince of Werewolves is here to pass judgement on him. When he's trying to lay low so people don't hurt himself or people he cares about. "Do I just have a face that makes people want to kill me?" Scott shouts to the heavens when Jason vanishes from sight leaving him snapping his head around wildly trying to find him.

And then the threats of what will happen to people he cares about and the people he just met start to be laid out. Which now that Jason is not there to face the brunt of his growing anger... just drives Scott even more and more angry and almost into a frenzy of rage. It's something not even Mick could manage to inspire in him back home. Maybe Liam might have a match for crazy wolfboy at the moment. Scott's eyes flash even more brightly red and his voice resonates like that of an Alpha. "You want your pound of flesh... then just goddamn kill me. At least I won't have to hear your yap flapping constantly." Scott's outright ignoring the arrival of the other Scott.

And when Jason reappears on top of the van... Scott leaps towards him once again, scrambling up the front windshield to join him atop. Scott again Alpha Voices at Jason as he snarls. "Then.. Just.. Do.... it!!" And then he's gone again and Scott just starts pounding his fists on top of the van. The whole murder your family and friends is a bit of a button for him.

Stiles hangs up the phone, shoving it into his pocket, and seems to spend the next several moments whirling around to no particular effect. First there's Scott-the-Alpha appearing, calling for reason. Then there's Ethan about to throw down, and Scott-the-Furball about to throw down, and Jason-the-WTF-Prince is leaping around, popping in and out of visibility. He keeps a tight grip on the bat, backing up against the jeep, and every wolf present will be able to hear his pulse racing near panic-mode.

Stiles is, a usual, in way, way over his head.

Calling out to anyone nearby, he says, "Dammit, listen to Scott--Alpha Scott! Last thing I need is to call my dad and report a freakin' blood bath!"

Ethan Carver finds himself on his knees, claws digging into the asphalt, and after blinking away confusion, he's on his feet again, spinning toward the van. How does this guy do that? Before Ethan can leap to the top of the van, the Prince has vanished again, this time re-appearing atop the warehouse. What the hell? Even werewolves can't move -that- fast. He's about to make a dash toward the warehouse with an eye toward scaling the wall with his claws, when he hears McCall's shout. Even though the Alpha hadn't put the 'push' in his voice, it's enough to stop Ethan dead in his tracks, head lowered and eyes averted. Old habits die hard, even if you've spent time being an Alpha yourself. Head still down, Ethan slinks back toward the Jeep, placing himself in front of the bumper and, by no coincidence, between McCall and the lunatic on the roof. Voice a low growl, he asks, "Any idea who or what this guy is? Oh hey. Li'l Chewbacca over there is a friend. I think."

McCall doesn't seem happy but he's not upset either. He's taken a moment to actually let his breathing regulate. He's heard everything the floaty mcvoice person has said and he's not really digging it. But that's not going to solve anything. Neither is trying to out-intimidate him. Scott is going to try something that werewolves usually don't try.


"Everybody just calm down. Please." McCall keeps his spot on the hood of the Jeep because it keeps him somewhere between the lunatic on the warehouse and the weirdo on the van and his Pack nearer to him. He holds his hands up to show that he's not here to do anyone any harm. He's just here to try and help. "I'm sure if we all just calm down, we can talk about this. Nobody needs to get hurt here. Nobody's going to die." Scott's eyes cut over to Scott. "I'm not going to let that happen." He doesn't even know this other wolf but he's not about to let someone just threaten him out of nowhere. Speaking of...

"I don't know who you are. I don't know what your problem is. I don't really care. But you need to understand something." Scott stands up a little bit straighter. "This is my town. Beacon Hills is my home. These people are my friends. All of them." Another quick glance to Other Scott and then he's back to looking up at Warehouse Walker McCrazy Pants. "You don't come into my town and attack anyone. If you have a problem? You come to me. Not them."

It is then, at that moment, that Scott McCall lets his eyes glow. Not for intimidation purposes. Not even for warning purposes. But the red tint burns low and just enough that if that thing up there is what he thinks he is, or even something close to it, he'll understand what's happening and what's being said.

Scott McCall... is The Alpha. The True Alpha.

There has been a phone call.

It doesn't take long to see the results of that brief, curt conversation. Suddenly there's a Derek Hale, wolfed out and ready for a fight. But he's keeping back and making a line of pinpoint focus to the jeep. Stiles called him. Stiles is first priority. Not to mention he can probably tell him what the hell is actually going on. Lately things have been changing a little bit for the mysterious man. After the last major crisis, he's at least ready to plan in a minimal fashion.

He visually takes in the fight that seems about to happen. He's heard all the shouting. Sigh. He should just have left town, but he wouldn't be able to live with himself or the 5000 texts he'd get from Stiles. So Derek looks to Stiles, seemingly unconcerned or unwilling to invest himself in the clash just yet. He doesn't say anything, but there's an expectant expression with those thick brows slightly steepled and lifted.

Alpha, Beta, whatever. Lately Derek's felt kind of...different. He looks a little different. There's a different sort of aura about him. And what's that...smell? Derek breathes deeply in, that brow coming together more in a sort of resting frown. Is that Stiles? Well, whatever. There are too many odd and new scents going on here for him to worry about analyzing in the heat of the moment. He'll deal with it later.

Jason Christopher's body starts to shudder, like every muscle in it is trying to move away from the others all at once. His clothing suddenly even tighter than Ethan's. He juts out his chest, which seems to large for his frame now. Holding up one hand, fingers splayed apart, rivulets of blood begin to drool down to his palm, as claws start to rip through the flesh with a grotesque tearing sound. Ligaments snap with the sound of firecrackers. Then he is gone again, appearing on the other warehouse roof. This time in a shape not unfamiliar to most present, but far larger and more beastial. A wolf Man. But over eight feet tall, and covered fully in short black fur. With the start of a muzzle appearing, he is still changing. He takes a breath, and does not howl, but roars. A sound heard for miles, with the slightest note of humanity still just barely there in it. But all the more inhuman for that distinction. He grows suddenly, as his body rapidly shifts. Peter Hale was a small bunny rabbit compared to this. Over twelve feet tall, this is a monster. Nothing more, and nothing less. He leaps from the roof and is gone. The creature that appears next to the van has changed again. This time a wolf, of a sort. But one nearly as long and tall as Stile's jeep, with fangs so large they spill over the side of it's massive muzzle. It leaps over the jeep and in mid jump shifts to a sleek black wolf. One of european descent for those that might recognize such details. Lost into the shadows once more.

"You are a werewolf Scott Howard. I have no desire to kill you. I did not come here with death on my mind. In fact, I can teach you the skills to live through what IS coming. You are all capable of these things I have shown you. I can also show you how to kill those things that are already dead but continue on into undeath. I can teach you so much. You have but to want to learn." After a moment he walks out of the shadows again where he first appeared. Fully dressed once more, and finger combing his hair into place. His gaze falls on Ethan, and he smiles. Blue eyes. Blue eyes may just understand. Sadly he has a feeling the others may not. But you can lead a wolf to meat, but you can't always make it eat. Still, in for a penny in for a pound. "It's not to late to save them Scott. They won't go there, if they know where you are. But why just roll over and die for them. When you could fight them instead. Vampires are hard to kill. Unless you have already spent life times killing them." He shrugs faintly and smiles. "Then, not so much. I can teach you. I have taught others, and tragically some of those will also come for you now. The vampires will only wish to kill you. My father will own you, or kill you. Trust me, the latter would be prefferable given the choice." Jason then approaches Scott McCall and looks him over. "I believe you Alpha. You'd fight, and I believe you'd fight well. But you would die, slowly as others fell around you. You would die rent into pieces inside before the first blow ever connected outwardly." There is no threat in his voice, just a simple statement. Though he has dialed back the intimidation he naturally seems to radiate. Jason's eyes shimmer from moonlight yellow, to a deep crimson red. "I've seen it before. In over four hundred years you see quite a bit." He glances at Derek as he arrives and shakes his head slightly. . o 0 (Hells, so many. Fuck. They will tear through this town like tissue paper if they find all of this. What the hell draws them all here?)

The Teen Wolf's eyes lose their red glow when Scott McCall's eyes take on their red glow, but he remains in his current wolfed out form, his breathing quick and still close to the rage point. Though the racket does die down a bit that he's not furiously beating his fists against the roof of the van. So those with enhanced hearing... you're welcome. Scott even stops trying to chase and rip apart the 'Prince of Werewolves' for the moment. And just watches silently as the 'Man' shows off what he's capable of. But his gaze never leaves him... locked on him like prey at least until he decides to disapear again. The other Werewolves and Stiles for the moment are still secondary in his thoughts. And then he bites back at Jason, but not with a mouthful of teeth. But with a smart-assed comment.

"Bullshit. You're playing some angle. I know a con man when I see one.... was friends with one of the best. This is some scare tactic bullshit to mess with us." Scott pffts at the man and just shakes his head. "I came here to lay low... I'm not looking to join your war." Scott throws his head back and howls like a wolf and leaps... but not towards Jason. He leaps to one of the rooftops and scrambles up over the ledge. And then a moment later is gone.... running across the rooftops. Not wanting to even hear more of this doom and gloom crap.

Stiles glances sharply to Derek, though there's relief on his face. "Well," he says, glancing over to where Prince Pompous is strutting (and seemingly teleporting) around the joint in various forms. "I guess he went to the Gratuitous Exposition School of Megalomaniacal Supervillainy, so you just heard most of the situation." It's a curious thing. As an ostensibly ordinary human, the nightmarish face of that gigantic were-beast should have reduced Stiles to a gibbering wreck, but while he certainly exhibits a healthy measure of fear and anxiety, he's also still almost shockingly together. (Not that anyone's likely noticing this, except perhaps Jason.) "Seems he's Deucalion the sequel: bigger, louder, and less self-aware." He glances back at the mounting tension of the would-be fray, hoping that Scott's going to manage to talk sense to these people. Of course, since the new guy seems to be a supervillain with delusions of godhood, well, why would he listen?

The bad guys never listen.

Then Scott Howard decides to flee, and (so not for the first time) Stiles envies the wolfish speed (to say nothing of the magically enhanced parkour abilities). Blowing out a sharp breath, he looks again to Derek, raising his eyebrows in a Can you believe this shit? sort of expression. And then his eyes are back on Scott--Scott, who he frankly trusts more than anyone to keep this from turning bloody.

But he's definitely not complaining about having Derek and Ethan near to hand, either.

Ethan Carver finds himself squaring his shoulders as McCall speaks, lifting his chin defiantly, standing tall and proud...until Jason begins demonstrating all the different transformations he's capable of. The massive wolfman is even larger and more intimidating that the super-werewolf form Ethan and his brother were once capable of achieving. Ethan's shoulders sag just a touch, a flash of jealousy evident in his features. But then a wolf of gigantic, prehistoric proportions? Eyes fade back to normal brown, fangs and claws retract, and Ethan simply stares in awe. Nothing he has ever seen is so breathtaking as that enormous wolf, and it's quite possible Ethan has fallen just a little in love with this so-called Prince. He even takes a half-step toward it, but stops himself when the wolf leaps over the Jeep, shifting forms again. Get it together, Ethan! McCall is your Alpha, whether he admits it or not. And what McCall values more than anything else is loyalty. Drawing himself up again, Ethan looks to McCall for guidance now. "Want me to go after him, Boss?" he asks in a low growl, nodding toward the building Howard vanished over and tensing to spring into action.

"Stay." Scott holds a hand out towards Ethan. Then he realizes what he said and turns towards the other wolf. "Uh, not like that. You know what I mean." He gives a shrug of his shoulders to try and apologize before he's finally hopping down off the jeep and down to the ground.

Scott's reaction to all of the transformations is one that seems to be more that he's trying to actually understand what's happening. He's actually listening to this guy and whatever it is that he has to say. He doesn't seem scared or intimidated or anything like that because he's worried about his Pack. And for the moment, his Pack isn't being threatened. Which means he doesn't have to do anything to this person-- thing.

"That's fine. You want to help? That's fine. But not here. Not like this." Scott keeps his hands where they can be seen. "You can do a lot of things. You can be a lot of things. That's great for you. But my friends? They don't need your help. Whatever's coming, we'll face it the way we always do." Scott takes a moment to look back at the people and wolves gathered. "Together."

Scott turns his attention back towards Jason. "Whatever you say is coming, it won't be the first time. Maybe they'll kill me. So what? I'll have died knowing it was for the people I care. The people I love. And if you can't see the power that comes with that? The power that we have?" Scott takes a step back. Not to get away from Jason but to be closer to his Pack. To prove that he is one with them, not just their leader. "Then you don't have any idea what we're really capable of."

Derek lifts a brow again, looking from Jason and Scott Howard back again to the others. He's guessing Stiles panicked and that's why he's here now, but Jason and what he can assume has been said does concern him. If things are shifting -- no pun intended -- in this direction, then he may have to get on the horn himself to that wizard he met the other day. Not that he's mentioned any of this to Stiles or the others. He's technically not...really exactly a member of Scott's Pack,, who cares. He'll stand there and look tough to back him up. He is a generous mysterious stud, and Scott appears to have the situation in hand. For the moment.

Jason Christopher shakes his head and shrugs. Every man makes his own way in life after all. "He choose poorly. But it is his choice to make. Sadly he is wrong, they will come for him. Perhaps he will come to realize it, before it is to late." He shrugs again as if in the end it really matters little to him. Outside of the potential loss of werewolf life anyway. Jason shifts his eyes to Stiles and arches an eyebrow as he finally looks at the human, really looks at him. Ordinarily they are, rather beneath his notice. But this one is, interesting. Ludicrously impertinent to the point that it becomes humorous, as opposed to grounds to simply kill him. But there is more, the way the others shield him. He is a part of this pack? Well, yes, very interesting. His gaze falls on the ring though and he frowns, face darkening. "An interesting ring human. They often represent very long commitments. You may wish to consider that." Again the humorless smile.

Jason looks at Scott again and smiles, somewhat sadly it appears. But perhaps just whistfully. "You fail to understand the point. I do not want to see you, or any of those in your pack die. You have the blood of wolves, and that has value to me. It is your choice, in the end. I came here for Scott Howard and found, many others. But throwing away your lives when help is offered is not nobility. It is not bravery. It is utter foolishness. Other things have come, and you have fought? I believe you. But would those fights have been easier, less costly with help? With one that knew what you would face? What have you lost fighting blindly? But the worst part is this. Should you perish, or others, it is throwing away the lives of the very ones you seek to protect, and profess to love. Which is so very much worse."

Oh the tell tale heart in the muscular wolf with the cobalt blue eyes. Ahhh the volumes it speaks if you but listen. He approaches Ethan, and looks at him closely, appraisingly. "Show me your eyes, your true eyes." His voice is, almost gentle as he says it. No threats or intimidation, but rather just a desire to see. He locks his eyes, still hot in their intensity, still a blast furnace, with Ethan.

Stiles seems to relax as Scott (McCall, the alpha) speaks, and he stands a bit straighter, folding his arms across his chest, bat still loosely in hand. He purses his lips tightly, then gives a firm shake of his head. When Jason calls out his ring, he holds it up. "Yeah? Get a good look. You have any idea what it means, then you'll know you don't want to fuck with us. So why don't you dial back the Lord Vader on Bespin crap and--" He cuts off, frowning, as Jason singles out Ethan, definitely the one here whose loyalties Stiles is the most unsure of. Moving just a bit forward, he drops his arms to his side and calls out in a low, urgent voice, "Dude, Ethan. Remember your friends. You've been working hard to make a life here. Don't screw that up listening to Darth Overbite, here."

Ethan Carver remains where he is, keeping himself puffed up for maximum intimidation as he faces Jason, though the effect may be slightly diminished by the quick shiver that runs along his spine. Was McCall including him when he talked about the people he cared for? Does he consider Ethan part of his pack already? And why does that thought make Ethan want to perform a series of joyous backflips, even in the middle of a tense situation? No time to think about that, because Bonny Prince Charles is stepping closer, and his eyes are...mesmerizing. Another shiver runs up Ethan's spine, and then his eyes flash to brilliant blue again, glowing brightly in the darkness. It's obvious there wasn't any conscious thought behind the action, it just seemed to happen automatically at Jason's command. "You don't frighten us," he says, jutting his chin forward. But again, it's obvious there's a hint of fear in his voice, along with no small measure of admiration. But the words Stiles speaks do reach him, and he squares his shoulders, pushing his impressive chest out even more. "Whatever's coming, we'll face." He nods toward McCall, though his eyes never leave Jason's. "He's our Alpha, and we all stand with him. Always."

Scott doesn't actually want to do what he's about to do but he ends up doing the thing that probably may cause this to get more physical. He moves with a hint of werewolf speed to squeeze himself between Ethan and Jason. There will be no mesmerizing of his friends while he's standing here. It is not only bad news but it's just plain rude.

Scott still makes it very clear that he doesn't want a fight because he doesn't touch Jason. Not more than his chest has to in order to make sure that he can break up this little blue-eyed love fest. He takes a moment to square himself and then he's speaking to Jason again. "You need to leave." A moment to make sure that he's being clear. "Now." He doesn't say anything else. This is a non-Alpha warning that is being given. While at the same time he's taking a moment to protect Ethan from what is probably some kind of weird supernatural crap.

Scott, as innocent as he seems, doesn't appear like he's going to move on his own. At the same time he looks just as ready to throw down. While also looking like he just wants this night to end. Only Scott McCall can pull that off and still have a sprinkle of Alpha Dominance lingering upon him.

Derek starts moving when Jason seems to single out Ethan. Scott may be an Alpha, but he's not really his Alpha, even if his current state is...kind of complicated. He moves with even strides, even measures...and then stops, setting his jaw, when McCall does it first. He narrows his eyes and then just keeps walking. This situation is handled. They didn't need him in the first place. But Stiles will definitely owe him one for coming along, and sooner or later...Derek Hale will come collecting.

Jason Christopher ignores Stiles for the moment, which isn't really that hard to do. He typically ignores human beings just as a means to not kill a busload of people daily. But if the ring impresses him, well he fails to show it. As Scott wedges himself between them Jason takes a step back, but also utterly ignores Scott beyond that. True alpha or not, he respects him. But he fears nothing that lives, or once lived. Even from a distance he continues to address Ethan. Whose name he now knows.

"Ethan, alright Ethan. I believe you. Just as I believed the alpha." He specifically does NOT say Ethan's alpha. "You are strong, that much is clear. But you have known tragedy, and loss haven't you? You have had to take life. That, changes a person and you know that deeper and truer than many. If you had been even stronger....if you had been even more capable than you are. Would people be alive now that aren't today? Ethan, titles be damned. We are not even of the same strain of lycanthropy. My title does not, and should not mean a thing to you. But what I can do, that should. What I can teach you to do. That should. Even if it doesn't mean anything to the others. The skills you can then use to protect the people that are still alive. You want this, and you are your own person capable of making your own choices." His eyes never leave Ethan's, his voice remains quiet and confident. His heart rate never changes an iota. He means all that he says, and potentially much more that he has not said. Promises float in the back of his eyes. Of a world that even as a werewolf, Ethan has never seen.

Stiles, for once, seems to know when not to taunt the bad guy. He glares at Jason, but he puts the ring away--what the hell was that about, anyway?--and folds his arms again, still gripping the bat, but by the thick end. He grinds his jaw at Jason's arrogant manner, and (with a none-too-subtle side-eye to Derek) he mutters, "Even Deucalion wasn't this bad. Even Peter freakin' Hale wasn't this bad. Who knew, Sourwolf? There's a royal bloodline of werewolves out there even more uptight than your uncle." Probably should've just kept his mouth shut, but as just about anyone present could tell you, shutting up is not one of Stiles' strong points.

Ethan Carver's eyes fade back to their normal brown when Scott steps between him and the Prince, and Ethan draws comfort and strength from the fact that McCall does, indeed, seem to consider him part of the pack. This is a good thing. What Jason offers is a great thing, but belonging to a pack, that's more important right now. Isn't it? For the first time, indecision crosses Ethan's expression. He needs to say something here. Do something. But what? His eyes dart around, seeking some guidance (where the hell is Aiden when he's most needed?), and the thing his mind latches onto is Derek, turning to leave the area. "Where the hell are you going, Hale?" he calls without thinking.

Scott takes a step towards Jason. He really doesn't want to have to even Alpha Up. He knows that Jason probably wouldn't even bat an eyelash. He can practically smell the power coming off him. He's just not one to back down when his Pack is involved. And there's not a thing he won't do (except one thing) to protect them. Even if they aren't completely and fully named as part of his Pack. Yet.

"Go. Please." Scott almost sounds like he's asking. It's one of those 'please don't make me have to fight you' asks, though. He's not afraid of Jason. He's afraid of what might happen if this gets back into a physical conversation. "You've said what you've come to say. We heard you. Now hear me and go." Scott's hand is shaking like he's trying to keep himself from getting too worked up and transform.

"If you really want to help them, then you'll go. Right now. And let me handle my Pack, my way." Ethan too.

Derek just stops. Right there. He could've stopped at the talk from Stiles, and he almost did. But Ethan calling out at him makes him frown a little deeper. He turns slowly back, looking between all of the people assembled here. Mostly wolves. Wolves and Stiles. "You don't need me to handle this clown." It's said flatly, with little emotion to it. Even though he could very well be annoyed with Ethan. Or Stiles for calling him Sourwolf again. If he could go back in time and prevent that from becoming a thing...

That shifted his attention a moment. Hale. That was a name he had not heard in a long time. "Hale, a relation to Talia Hale? If so, please give her this 'clowns' regards. It has been some time since we last spoke. Her company is one of few I value. She is a remarkable woman, and werewolf." Smiling a little wishfully again he looks back to Ethan and takes a breath, while giving Scott another step's worth of room. "Ethan, your pack gives you strength it is true. But true strength comes in equal measure from within as well. Be my student, and let me be your...teacher." Ethan's current 'state' was hardly lost on Jason. The scent of it was easily detected, and really those jeans are VERY tight. His words are honeyed with hinted at promises. "You can have it both ways. Would the people that profess to care about you force you to stay? Or begrudge your desires to better yourself when you returned? Their actions show they care about you, surely enough to allow you to be of your own mind."

Jason looks at Scott and nods slowly. "You are a good alpha, you don't just pretend to care. That much is clear. I will go, because you have shown me the same respect I afford to you. But I would also ask, if he wishes to come with me. Allow him. Despite what Scott Howard believes, there is a trouble coming here. You are in a crosshairs. Let Ethan make up his own mind and do not judge him unfairly for doing so."

Stiles sighs faintly at Derek, but he lowers his arms once more and pulls out his phone, one-handedly tapping out a text while frequently glancing up at Jason, just in case. He bites his lip worriedly at Jason's words, as his indignation finally dies down enough for his brain to kick in, and somewhere deep in his mind's eye, the fragments of fact that have been presented start to align, the massive gaps in that information connected with what any telepath might be surprised to find would look a lot like lengths of red yarn. And apparently the comments about Derek's mother were some kind of a tipping point, because after a long moment, he finally steps forward again.

Not displaying his best use of intelligence, Stiles calls after Jason, "You want us to take anything you're saying seriously? Don't come strutting into town and posture like a lame-ass supervillain. Give us information. Give us something real. So far, all you've got is a bunch of cool tricks and way, way more hot air." And, as soon as he's done speaking, some part of his brain catches up to ask, When will you learn to keep your damn mouth shut? And he's self-aware enough that another corner of his mind responds, Probably never.

"S-scott?" Ethan says, sounding very unsure of himself, eyes still locked on Jason. This isn't exactly a new situation. Deucalion was just as seductive when he first found the twins, offering them power they'd barely allowed themselves to dream of, not to mention a way to escape an abusive pack. It was a temptation too great to resist then, and giving in paid off in unimaginable ways. Terrible ways, yes, and the guilt still haunts Ethan, but the rewards proved worthy. Can Jason truly teach Ethan to be harder, better, faster, stronger? Would having those incredible powers push Ethan to the Dark Side again, or would he be able to harness them to do good? Good for McCall, good for his pack and friends, good for all of Beacon's tempting. Of course, there's one major difference between then and now: Scott McCall isn't Ethan's old Alpha. He's not abusive or neglectful. He -cares- about his pack, and if that includes Ethan, then it follows that Scott cares about him, too. Scott is a True Alpha, someone Ethan very much wants to follow, to fight for. There's just a hint of tremble in his voice when he asks, "Scott, what should I do? What do -you- want me to do?" Now more than ever, he feels the absence of his twin, like a vital piece of himself is missing. Something -- someone -- needs to fill that void.

Scott walks away from Jason. He has nothing left to say to him. In fact, he's on the other side of both him and Ethan by the time Ethan is looking at him for some sort of guidance. He's not far from the Twin but he has moved himself out of the path between Ethan and Jason. It was a show of good faith to Jason that he trusts that they can take care of this without any bloodshed.

"I don't know, Ethan." Scott makes sure to use Ethan's name. However, when he says it, it's less seduction and more worry. When Scott says Ethan it is almost as if he's talking to a part of himself. A part of himself that he doesn't want to lose. All of that is wrapped up in a simple gesture.

"I would love to be able to tell you what to do. But this isn't my choice to make. This one's yours." Scott takes a step towards Ethan. "What I do know is that you've been there for me, for us, even when we didn't want you to be. You've stood by us and I appreciate that. But you're going to have to make this decision on your own." Scott reaches out to plant a hand on Ethan's shoulder. This doesn't happen often. Hell, it's damn near a moment that should be recorded in time. "If you go with him, I don't know what will happen to you. And as annoying as you are, I'd still try to be there for you. I just don't know if I can be." Scott sighs. "But if you stay? With me? With our Pack?" Not His. Our. "I'm sure we can handle whatever comes our way."

For once, there's an emotion that crosses Derek's face, and it's neither frustration nor anger. Not a single person has really chipped at his usually stoic mask of impassive assertiveness until that moment. He looks, for just an instant, wounded to the quick. Deeply. He could shrug off hot iron piercing his flesh, electricity coursing through his muscles, venom and bile, but this...this actually hits him harder than he thought anything could. He wasn't expecting it. He's not over it.

To hell with these goddamn antics. Derek stalks over in the direction of both Jason, Ethan, and of course Scott, walking right up to Jason. He was ready to give up on this scene. They didn't need him, right? But now it's different. "My mother is dead," he rumbles, forcefully, snarling at Jason, breathing faster. "And you're out of your territory. Don't come here and try to take someone else's pack. If you really knew her, you'd know you don't do that. Not then, not now, not ever."

For a moment, one so brief only those looking at him directly are likely to see it, the blast furnace in his eyes dims. The news of Talia's death hits him, seemingly hard. His eyes, eyes far older than everyone present added together. They betray not a lifetime's worth of pain, and loss. But multiple lifetime's. Then the moment is gone and he nods stiffly, the blast furnace re-igniting. "I see. I am sorry for the loss, for your loss. She was, a gifted person, a good friend to have on your side. I believe she would also say everyone deserves to find their own way, their own path. Or would you deny someone that Hale?"

He takes a breath and looks again to Stiles post latest rant. "Your alpha has asked me to withdraw, human. I will respect his wishes. If you wish me to provide proof, I will bring you the head of a vampire, a cold one. I am certain to encounter at least one, even in a town of this size." . o 0 (Especially in this town.) He pauses a brief moment to reflect again on the sheer temerity of this child. Super Villain, where do they come up with this nonsense. "They will come for you, and in numbers. Worse still, should my father come."

He starts to back away, once more into the shadows between the warehouses, already starting to fade away. But not before one more comment to Ethan. "You belong to two worlds Ethan, it is clear. Do not foresake one so fully, just to live a half life in the other. There is so much I can teach you, and so much you clearly desire to learn. Do not fear loosing yourself, rather seek to find who you truly can be. Trusting your pack is vital. Trust in yourself is as well. You know who you have been, come with me and see who you can become."

His voice trails off, and Jason Christopher of the House of Lupus, exiled prince of the Children of the Moon, is gone. Just as Scott McCall True Alpha of Beacon Hills wished. How long he would remain gone however, well that might be another matter. Stile's had a very distinct scent, not entirely even human. It would prove little trouble to leave a marble like vampire head on his pillow later. Face still contorted in horror, and a silent scream from the the last sight it ever saw. Very. Large. Fangs. So many of them. Closing around it's head.

Once Jason's finally gone, Stiles realizes that he's breathing. Funny, he was sure he'd stopped. He looks between Scott and Ethan and Derek, offering the latter an expression of uncommonly sincere sympathy--really, perhaps, apology--with not a trace of his usual snark. Then he pockets the phone he's been clucking, turns and walks up beside Scott.

Clapping his bat into an open palm (though softly, more as an idle, even unconscious gesture than macho posturing) he gives a sharp nod. "Nice job," he says in a voice of forced calm. "You know I love it when you alpha up like that." There's a beat, and then his manner turns wholly serious, dropping even the pretense of jokes. "You think this guy's gonna be trouble," he says, a statement rather than a question. "And you're probably right. But maybe--and I know, I know, I shouldn't say it--but maybe he'll turn out to be reasonable. They can't all be as freakin' nutcrackers as Deucalion and Peter."

Finally, speaking up a bit, he calls over, "Ethan. You just gotta decide: What's more important? Power to fight in some weird-ass ego-wolf's private war, or a pack that that actually cares about each other. You wanna life, or you just wanna be someone's soldier again. That's what you gotta choose."

Ethan Carver's eyes dart back and forth between Scott and Jason, even as the latter fades into the shadows. "But if he really can teach me...teach -us- to do those things. Make us all stronger, fiercer, better able to handle whatever's coming...." He fixes his gaze on Scott now, his expression pleading. "You're my Alpha, McCall. Whether I'm officially part of your pack or not, I'm here to follow your lead. Aiden will be too, when he gets back. You can count on us. But we're just Betas now, can't even merge like we used to. We'll fight to the death for you, but if we could be even stronger...You want that, don't you? You want us to be as strong as we can, to fight for you." He flinches a bit at Stiles's words. Damn him for being so bluntly truthful. Turning to the human, Ethan's voice softens a touch. "I don't want power for myself. I don't need that anymore. I know you think you get it, but you really don't. You can't really understand what it's like for a wolf. We -need- to be part of a pack. We need to belong, to be part of the whole. And if what he says is true, and there are things coming after Scott Howard, things worse than any Alpha Pack or Darach? The whole needs to be as strong as it can be. The power's not for me, Stilinski. It's for all of us, to make us all stronger." His eyes return to Scott. "I...can't decide this myself, Scott. I need you to decide."

Stiles gets a slight nod as Jason makes himself scarce and Scott visibly relaxes. He probably shouldn't let too much of that show so he catches himself before he's too happy that the confrontation is over. As Ethan keeps talking to him, he continues to listen even though he's still not going to actually make any decisions for him.

"Sounds like you've already made up your mind." Scott actually smiles. He hasn't smiled since this whole debacle started. This smile is warm and inviting. He takes a moment to try and show everyone that he cares. Also, he's about to come up with a new catch phrase for this season.

"Pack over Power."

Derek looks back to Scott, waiting for that pronouncement. Good. He got that right. Not that Derek shows any real approval of it. His eyes go from Scott to Stiles, and they linger there for longer than strictly necessary, as if conveying some uncertain message through silence and a flat brow. And breathing. Deep, noticeable breathing as his shoulders rise and fall. Suddenly, he turns again and just walks back the way he came, shifting back to his regular human appearance. This has prompted thought. Deep thought. Uncomfortable thought. And emotion, which is never too welcome.

Stiles steps closer to Ethan, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. "Look, dude," he says in an uncommonly gentle tone. "If you go with him... just... don't let him force you to do things. Don't let him make you into anything you're not. If you need to go and... learn from him? If you need to find out if you can trust him? Do what you gotta do. But... don't lose yourself in it, alright?" He lets go, stepping back, and notices Derek leaving. Drawing a deep sigh, he adds in another forced tone of lightness, "I mean, c'mon. I was just startin' to like you." He raises his eyebrows, offering a halfhearted humorous smirk, and then looks to Scott. Chewing his lip a moment, he says in a low tone, "Sorry I ruined your night for this, but I'm damn glad you were here."

Ethan Carver takes several long, deep breaths, eyes closed as his features return to normal. "You're my Alpha, Scott," he says again, though almost a whisper this time. "I'll do whatever you want me to do." He opens his eyes, fixing them on the Alpha intensely, then flicking to Stiles and even Derek, though the former Alpha seems to be retreating from the touchy-feely portion of tonight's program. "I won't betray you. Count on that. But I...I need to think." He shivers a bit when Stiles speaks to him, slowly nodding and lowering his voice to a bare whisper, "Thanks, Stilin...Stiles." He takes a step back from the others, then another, before turning and running off into the night, disappearing into the shadows. Fortunately, the direction he chooses isn't the one Jason apparently took earlier, so at least he's not running off to catch the Prince. Or is he? Only one thing is certain: he left his leather jacket draped across the Jeep's hood. Fortunately, Macys provides a nearly endless supply, so he won't be jacketless for long. But bonus for Stiles, he has a leather jacket!