His nose burns as the scent of alcohol hits him before he glances up to see Stiles, looking worse for wear. A small part of Scott is glad for it, because he's focusing on the anger because it's easier that way.
He slides to his feet easily and makes a beeline for him, moving to stand in front of him, forcing him to stop short. "I need to talk to you." Emphasis on need, because as of now, he certainly doesn't want to.