"They're not so bad," Scott admitted grudgingly, thinking of Allison and her dad, "but if they don't know you and just see what you are...yeah, not so good," he told her with a wrinkle of his nose.
"Getting back would be good," Scott balled up his t-shirt and held it over the wound. It would start to heal soon, he hoped. "I'm Scott, do you have a name?" he asked, noting that she had actually looked away. Most of the people he knew would have wanted a front row ticket for that show. Except Stiles, who fainted at the sight of a needle. "I wasn't trying to be funny," he said with a small smile, attempting a shrug before his body rebelled. "I'll try not to bleed on you," Scott told her.
Alright, he'd seen a thing or two in his life and thought she'd smacked the hunter with a sling-shot or...something. He hadn't for a second considered that she might be packing a yo-yo. "You can fly with that thing?" he asked curiously as he did as he was told. "I'm all for getting out of here!" Just as the girl was about to do whatever she had in mind there was a crack in the air and Scott, with all of his werewolf strength and dexterity, pulled the two of them out of the way as a bullet zinged past their heads. "Time to go," he said in mild panic. He could heal, but could she?