[At least something can be said for the way Stiles doesn't quite jump when Arthur places his hand on his shoulder, only startles slightly, turning to look at him so fast it's a wonder he escapes that without whiplash.]
Arthur? [Out of the corner of his eye, he can see several sentences lighting up; He still thinks it's his fault, says one of them; I'm terrified of my parents coming here, says another. Stiles turns away from them.]
Hey, you got a torch. That's, uh, that's good thinking. I tried a flashlight, but it's- [Well, dead; he holds it in his hand, and Arthur can see the light it gives is so faint it's like nothing at all.]