[Stiles Stilinski had assumed when his dad asked him to help out around the station, it would include fun things. After all, he was a smart, tech-savvy college student with way too much time on his hands and a quick mind. He'd be great at solving cases.
Instead, he's doing a patrol for his dad in the Beacon Hills conservatory.
Stiles is almost positive that he passed this off on him because he got a C on a math test, and this is some sort of punishment. Ducking under the chains that keep the cars out during the offseason, Stiles flicks on his flashlight and sweeps it from side to side across the crunching leaves and dirt pathways. It's cold as sin outside, and by the time he's even halfway through the sheriff's marked off quadrant, Stiles' teeth are chattering. Tugging the zipper of his hoodie up to his collar, he swings the flashlight across a small overhang created by a tree root and freezes, noticing something moving. ]
Oh god.
[It could be any number of things, wild things. So naturally Stiles starts to creep towards it, squinting a little as he lowers his flashlight towards the pile of leaves. Whatever it is is too small to be anything maul-y, and he tentatively reaches a hand forward towards the pile, starting to kneel down.]
~enter the stiles~ /shot dead
Instead, he's doing a patrol for his dad in the Beacon Hills conservatory.
Stiles is almost positive that he passed this off on him because he got a C on a math test, and this is some sort of punishment. Ducking under the chains that keep the cars out during the offseason, Stiles flicks on his flashlight and sweeps it from side to side across the crunching leaves and dirt pathways. It's cold as sin outside, and by the time he's even halfway through the sheriff's marked off quadrant, Stiles' teeth are chattering. Tugging the zipper of his hoodie up to his collar, he swings the flashlight across a small overhang created by a tree root and freezes, noticing something moving. ]
Oh god.
[It could be any number of things, wild things. So naturally Stiles starts to creep towards it, squinting a little as he lowers his flashlight towards the pile of leaves. Whatever it is is too small to be anything maul-y, and he tentatively reaches a hand forward towards the pile, starting to kneel down.]
C'mon, come out, whatever you are...
[God he really hopes it's not something mauly.]