Scott winced, swallowing hard and forcing the shift back. His wolf did not like to be snuck up on, and Scott was getting tired of wrestling with himself. He really needed to find a better way of controlling himself. Somebody mentioned something about an anchor at some point, but for the life of him, Scott can't remember who said it or what it really meant.
"Uh," He opened his eyes, back to their regular shade of brown. Scott smiled sheepishly, running a hand back through sweat-slick hair. He wasn't a good liar and they both knew it - that had always been Stiles, ever since the first time, when they tried to claim the neighbor's dog broke the living room lamp. Didn't stop Scott from trying. "Out. Running. Training, uh, for lacrosse season."