WHO:Stiles Stilinski and Emma Swan WHERE: The sheriff's station WHEN: Later afternoon on June 17th WHAT: Getting a job, he hopes WARNINGS: UMMM probably some language?
Okay, so, so far? This was very far from ideal. Stiles had begun a mental list of all the things he'd noted, all the things to watch out for, and most importantly, all the people. Blonde lady: Sheriff Emma Swan. And if there was one thing that Stiles Stilinski knew better than anything, including werewolves, it was the sheriff's station. He'd practically grown up following his dad through the police station, and okay, yeah, he'd broken into it a couple times. Actually, to be quite frank, he had never properly been the breaker. He'd been the enterer. But whatever, those distinctions wouldn't exactly save him from trouble.
There was kind of a sharp ache in his chest any time he thought of his dad. Alone in Beacon Hills, with everything about to get so much worse--because that's what happened. Nothing ever got better. And here they were in, what, some magnetic anomaly thing? He was so not nerd enough to get that. Not yet, at least. He'd copied it carefully down into the back of his notebook, though, because that explanation probably held at least a little bit of a key.
He'd brought everything with him, because even though he'd be coming right back, Stiles didn't trust this place any more than he trusted Peter Hale with a child. (That wasn't even a little bit, by the way. He'd sooner give a baby to a ravenous wild pit bull.) He'd stopped by the restaurant and procured, with very little actual talking, thank god, some food. Not because Stiles couldn't talk, but because right now he was a little too weirded out to give actual attempts at weird answers.
So he had donuts for Emma Swan, which he carefully stuck in his backpack. Along with a sandwich that appeared to be baloney (but according to the locals, may actually have been more likely skunk or dog or, worse, people) and a very large container of curly fries. Because curly fries, Stiles had managed to get a thermos of lava-hot coffee.
And with all of this carefully packed for carrying, Stiles set off for the Sheriff's Department. He hadn't thought to ask her where it was, which meant he spent much longer than he meant to wandering around like an aimless lost puppy. But eventually, he found it.
He walked in the door, coffee held aloft. "So I heard you guys needed some coffee. I also have donuts, 'cause I know how you cops are." Okay, so, yeah. He probably wasn't getting that job now. "And curly fries, but I'm only sharing the donuts."