Scott + Jackson
It was a justified fear, Scott would have to give him that. He didn't believe for a second it had just been an accident; it couldn't have been, with that many werewolves under one roof. Someone would have smelled it, would have stopped it. Not only that, but knowing about the supernatural - it had been engineered to look like an accident. Foul play...it might not stick. And that was kind of terrifying. Especially with the pack - or lack of pack, because so few of them had actually officially joined - in such disarray, their Alpha understandably weakened by the loss. They would not be ready if the hunters came for them.
"Jackson," Scott didn't sound exasperated, because he hardly ever did, but he did raise an eyebrow at the forceful pat on the shoulder. He was not in the mood for a fight, if Jackson was trying to start one. But he didn't raise his hackles immediately, so that was certainly something. Scott took another sip from his cup, deciding that he didn't really like it. The burn on his tongue was a little much, more than it was when he was human. Could he even get drunk anymore? "You just get here?"