First Person: [Scott steps off the train before he even realizes he was on one. Seriously, when did that happen? It’s like he was on auto-pilot until his feet touch the pavement. Did he wolf out? He doesn’t smell any blood, so he’s pretty sure he didn’t hurt anyone if he did wolf out. In fact, he smells something… strange.
There are so many scents in the air, he can’t even process them all. It’s like standing in the perfume aisle in some store after a hoard of kids have been through. They have sprayed every test bottle on the shelf, creating an unholy cacophony of smells that abuse the senses.
His surroundings appear somewhat old-fashioned compared to his home town, but they hold an air of class about them. As he’s looking around, he hears the train pull away from the station. The sound is almost deafening to his sensitive ears, having been paying attention with all of his enhanced senses in such a strange place.
Scott covers his ears and winces in pain, dropping down to one knee. It’s then that he notices the strange weight in his pocket. When the assault to his hearing passes, he delves into that pocket and retrieves the small watch. Turning it over a few times, he decides it can’t hurt to push a button or two, can it? In doing so, he unwittingly initiates a video network broadcast.
Rather than sniff the watch, seeing as his nose is on overdrive anyway, he observes it, waiting for something to happen after pressing the button. (Dignity intact.)]
Third Person: Scott fell back onto Stilinski’s bed with his arms folded behind his head. He frowned at the ceiling, deep in thought. Stiles sat in his computer chair, spinning to face his unusually quiet best friend. The frown on his face was a sure sign that the other was thinking too much. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but Scott spoke first.
“Do you think I’m supercilious?” Scott asked, seeming truly distraught.
Stiles closed his mouth, his own face drawing into a frown. “What?”
“Supercilious. It’s the Word of the Day on ‘Word Think’ dot com.” Scott answered, sitting up and pivoting on the bed to look at Stiles. His chocolate brown eyes seemed clouded with concern.
“I think… You’re being super-silly-ous.” Stiles suggested helpfully, smile included. Scott’s frown didn’t waver, but his eyes brightened considerably. So, Stiles decided he needed to banish the thought completely. “If anyone is supercilious, it’s Jackson.”
“I was a complete jerk to you when Lydia kissed me.” Yes, it was a brilliant idea to bring that one up, Scott. He mentally scolded himself for it.
“Full moon.” Stiles pinned him with a look that dared Scott to argue.
The dark haired teen groaned, dropping back to the bed again, frustration tugging at his features. “That’s not a good enough excuse, Stiles! I can’t keep doing things like that when the full moon comes around each month. It’s like that’s the ‘real me’ or something. Without inhibitions, I’m a real dick.”
“Scott,” Stiles began, looking seriously at his distressed friend. “everyone’s a real dick without inhibitions. That’s why they exist. Without them, we’d all be a bunch of—er… that came out weird.”
The werewolf seemed to smile, lifting just his head to make eye contact with Stiles. “Guess you’re right. And you did get me back for it.”
“Yeah, well. You cheated.” Stiles pouted light-heartedly at the other teen.
Re: { [CANON] Scott McCall || Teen Wolf || reserve || 4 of 4 }
[Scott steps off the train before he even realizes he was on one. Seriously, when did that happen? It’s like he was on auto-pilot until his feet touch the pavement. Did he wolf out? He doesn’t smell any blood, so he’s pretty sure he didn’t hurt anyone if he did wolf out. In fact, he smells something… strange.
There are so many scents in the air, he can’t even process them all. It’s like standing in the perfume aisle in some store after a hoard of kids have been through. They have sprayed every test bottle on the shelf, creating an unholy cacophony of smells that abuse the senses.
His surroundings appear somewhat old-fashioned compared to his home town, but they hold an air of class about them. As he’s looking around, he hears the train pull away from the station. The sound is almost deafening to his sensitive ears, having been paying attention with all of his enhanced senses in such a strange place.
Scott covers his ears and winces in pain, dropping down to one knee. It’s then that he notices the strange weight in his pocket. When the assault to his hearing passes, he delves into that pocket and retrieves the small watch. Turning it over a few times, he decides it can’t hurt to push a button or two, can it? In doing so, he unwittingly initiates a video network broadcast.
Rather than sniff the watch, seeing as his nose is on overdrive anyway, he observes it, waiting for something to happen after pressing the button. (Dignity intact.)]
Third Person:
Scott fell back onto Stilinski’s bed with his arms folded behind his head. He frowned at the ceiling, deep in thought. Stiles sat in his computer chair, spinning to face his unusually quiet best friend. The frown on his face was a sure sign that the other was thinking too much. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but Scott spoke first.
“Do you think I’m supercilious?” Scott asked, seeming truly distraught.
Stiles closed his mouth, his own face drawing into a frown. “What?”
“Supercilious. It’s the Word of the Day on ‘Word Think’ dot com.” Scott answered, sitting up and pivoting on the bed to look at Stiles. His chocolate brown eyes seemed clouded with concern.
“I think… You’re being super-silly-ous.” Stiles suggested helpfully, smile included. Scott’s frown didn’t waver, but his eyes brightened considerably. So, Stiles decided he needed to banish the thought completely. “If anyone is supercilious, it’s Jackson.”
“I was a complete jerk to you when Lydia kissed me.” Yes, it was a brilliant idea to bring that one up, Scott. He mentally scolded himself for it.
“Full moon.” Stiles pinned him with a look that dared Scott to argue.
The dark haired teen groaned, dropping back to the bed again, frustration tugging at his features. “That’s not a good enough excuse, Stiles! I can’t keep doing things like that when the full moon comes around each month. It’s like that’s the ‘real me’ or something. Without inhibitions, I’m a real dick.”
“Scott,” Stiles began, looking seriously at his distressed friend. “everyone’s a real dick without inhibitions. That’s why they exist. Without them, we’d all be a bunch of—er… that came out weird.”
The werewolf seemed to smile, lifting just his head to make eye contact with Stiles. “Guess you’re right. And you did get me back for it.”
“Yeah, well. You cheated.” Stiles pouted light-heartedly at the other teen.