"They'll have to pries my badge out of my cold, dead hands!" Noah said theatrically, cause unless the retirement package came with a whole lot of perks he didn't know about, he wasn't buying into it! "Aren't there more murders in New York than anywhere else?" he asked Stiles, "or is this place less murder-happy? I mean, that would be a good thing, obviously. Just not for our work prospects," he said warming to the idea of the two Stilinski's on a case together. "Son, I hate to break it to you," Noah said with an arm around his son's shoulders, "but your genetic profile is way more papa-heavy than half!" It was like looking in a mirror sometimes, although Stiles had inherited a few of Claudia's traits he held dear too.
"Are you allowed to splat joke-telling frogs and singing leprechauns?" Noah asked entirely dead-pan. "Or shoot them? Cause that sounds like torture rather than crazy." Monsters were an everyday thing, though waking up in new cities was a big deal - or had been until incredibly recently.
Noah still wrinkled his nose just a little, wondering if a talking-Derek really would be any better. "Scott never picks the easy route, does he?" was the diplomatic answer he settled for. "So they're together now? I have to make room for this in my head? Or do I just file it under 'TBD' and pretend I know nothing?"
"Hey, I wanna see you tortured by miniature Stiles' before I die," Noah told his son with a broad grin, "so I'm looking to the future, like it or not and don't worry, I won't spoil the surprise. My kid, a married man... good going, son," he said hugging Stiles once more. "When you know, you know," he murmured, echoing the conversation he'd had with Lydia a few days earlier. Oh yes, you knew alright!