Stiles walked slowly down the darkened sidewalks in the city, hands stuffed in his pockets. It was dangerous, he knew, even for him with his newfound emissary abilities. He hadn't mastered them by any stretch of the imagination. Truthfully, other than the flood of knowledge he now had about the supernatural things from their world, he had no damn idea what he was doing. He wasn't sure it even mattered. There was no alpha around anymore to help with them anyway. And there was only one alpha that he wanted to be an emissary for.
He sighed softly, looking up at the sky and pursing his lips, kicking a rock and glancing down as it skittered across the pavement. He heard footsteps approaching and tensed involuntarily. They were coming fast, and hard, someone's shoes pounding against the concrete.
"Don't be a mugger. Don't be a demon. Don't be a psychopa--" His words cut off abruptly as he spotted the person several feet in front of him, running toward him in a familiar red hoodie. He caught sight of his face in the soft glow of the street lamp's light and he stared with wide eyes.
"...Scott?" he asked, disbelief clear in his voice.