2020.01.20 - When Nerds Collide
Port-Au-Feu - The Den
The first two buildings that catch the eye of any visitor are an old tavern, bearing a heavy wooden sign with "MOONSTRUCK" carved into it in worn, smoothed letters. The place has a friendly air, although even in the daytime the windows are darkened. Only the faint shapes of the patrons inside can be seen, sitting at at booths near the windows. There's a small downward step into the tavern, where a pair of double doors, heavy wood adorned with brass handles worn to a dull shine through years of use, lead onward.
On the opposite side of the street is a small grocery store. Faded green letters read "Faolan Bro's" over the door. Large plate-glass windows show aged tile, an older style deli counter with a pair of young men working behind it, and aisle after aisle of goods. A few patrons mill about inside--the place is never empty. Next to it sits a small hostel-style building, the two-story construction standing out some among the other buildings. The vines have almost completely covered the building, practically hiding it among the trees of the street.
There's a dull, omnipresent buzz of conversation wafting through the air, accompanied by a similarly omnipresent aroma of someone cooking--the smell carried through the neighborhood by light breezes.
It's important, when one is learning a new town, to walk around as much as possible. Knowing the streets personally is a good way to keep them in your mind. At least, that's Skitch's theory. It's worked, so far. Every street he's explored has been absolutely memorable for a myriad of reasons. And why fix what isn't broken? So today, despite the chill in the air and the snow that still lingers in the shady areas, Skitch is putting his practice to good use. And Scooby's helping!
The blonde makes his way along the street, his hand wrapped in the leash of the black-and-tan French bulldog, walking slowly as each thing passed is inspected thoroughly. Pausing in front of the grocery, he drops to one knee to ruffle the dog's ears. "I'm sorry, fella," he says, looking up at the door to the store. "I don't think they'll let me in there with you."
From the hostel windows, the sounds of a young musician beginning their practice starts; a slow, mournful violin piece.
Stiles emerges from the grocery with a canvas bag in one hand and his phone in the other. He's paying more attention to the phone than anything around him, tapping out a text. He nearly walks into Skitch, but he pulls up short at the last minute, blinking in surprise. "Whoa--sorry!" He notices Scooby, cracking a crooked grin, and says, "Hey, great dog. Sorry about almost smacking into you there. I wasn't even here at all." He shifts the bag a bit, juggling his phone, and managing not to drop anything says, "I'm Stiles. Kinda visiting town--you from around here?"
Skitch exhibits oddly-on point reflexes at the near collision, scooping Scooby out of the way and barely managing avoiding to take Stiles' sack in his face. He blinks as he leans back, and looks up at the lanky teenager. "No worries, dude," he says, standing up and brushing off his knee. "I do that kind of stuff all the time. Last week, I nearly walked off the end of the moving truck." He tugs Scooby a bit closer, and nods. "I'm Sam, but you can call me Skitch. This is Scooby." He shakes his head at the question, though. "We just moved here," he clarifies. "I'm still learning the lay of the land." He wrinkles his nose, and looks down the street. "I was looking for a shop, but I think I took a wrong turn, 'cause I'm not seeing it."
The corner of Stiles' mouth quirks again, the motion mirrored by one eyebrow, and his grin resurfaces. "Skitch? Okay, points for a cool nickname. Extra points for a dog named Scooby." He immediately shoves his phone in his pocket and crouches down, holding out a hand for the pup to sniff. Then, as if catching himself, he looks up with a slightly chagrined expression and asks, "Hey, is it cool if I pet him? I know you're not s'posed to assume--I just really like dogs, sorry." He nods, then, and asks, "What kinda shop? I've seen tons of 'em in the last couple of days." He's been trying to get the lay of the land, after all.
"Thanks," Skitch says with a grin of his own. "I gave it to myself, apparently, when I was a kid. But c'mon. 'Stiles' isn't exactly slouching in the cool nickname department." He nods at the request, and Scooby is totally down for meeting new people, as he hops at Stiles on his little stubby legs, huffing excited barks. When he gets closer to the teenager, he pauses, his flat little nose flexing a few times before he sits down and STARES at Stiles, clearly confused by something that eludes Skitch.
Shrugging at his weird dog, he looks around again. "Well, this is going to sound super nerdy," he says. "Which would come as no surprise if you knew me." He ducks his head sheepishly, and continues. "But it's actually a magic shop? Not the rabbit out of a hat kind, but the crystals and tarot cards kind." He frowns, and rubs his chin. "I thought it was on this street, but like I said, I might have taken a wrong turn."
The grin widens, and Stiles says, "Well, if you knew my real name--which, nope, I won't tell--you'd understand. Last name's 'Stilinski,' so 'Stiles' just kinda came naturally." As it becomes clear it's cool, he enthusiastically reaches out to pet Scooby with both hands, saying, "Aw, he's awesome! Hey, Scooby!" But he pauses, then, as Scooby stares at him. "Uh. Hey, you okay, there, Scoob?" The name shortening just happens without even thinking. Blame the cartoon. Stiles is distracted from his question, though, at the mention of the magic shop. "Wait, seriously?" he asks, looking up again. "I've been looking for one of those, too! Man, I've got a hell of a list of stuff I'm all out of."
It takes a moment of more sniffing before Scooby slowly pushes to his feet and moves closer to Stiles, clearly less eager but no less interested. In fact, someone's shoes and shins are getting a thorough, slobbery inspection, complete with chuffing commentary as the bulldog finds new things to learn. Something has got his undivided attention.
Skitch blinks when it's revealed Stiles has the same mission (sort of), and he grins a bit wider, shoving his hands in his pockets and giving the lanky youth a more thoughtful once-over. "I wouldn't peg you for a patron," he says. "But then, I guess I don't exactly scream 'woo woo' either." He tips his head, and fishes around, pulling out his own phone and swiping the screen to access the maps. "I was just going to check out their books. I need a new Grayson's Compendium of the Arcane. Mine's falling apart."
Stiles makes a bit of a face at the slobbering, but he's stifling laughter, and if Scooby seems cool with it, he goes to give him that two-handed petting and ear-rubbing. "What'd, I step in something?" he asks, clearly directing the question at the dog. He looks up again at Skitch's explanation, and he bobs his head. "Yeah? Well, maybe we can find it. I definitely need to do a little shopping. The place I usually go to's in San Francisco, and--yeah, kind of a ways off right now." He gives a mild shrug, adding, "Anyway, I only got into magic a few months ago. Turns out I've got the spark, or whatever, and... yeah. I've been learning." He tests the waters, speaking casually, to see if Skitch is a "believer" or just really New-Agey.
Whatever question Scooby has is answered, and he sits on Stiles' foot to allow for better ear-rubbing. He looks up at Skitch with a wide dog smile, and huffs happily. "Now you've done it," Skitch says. "You've got a friend for life." Indeed, Scooby shows no inclination to move his chubby butt.
Skitch's eyebrows lift at the revelation that Stiles is from so far away, and he nods. "Yeah, that's a bit of a hike." He shrugs, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I never had the knack for it. I can remember eight ways to kill a lich, but I can't wrap my head around spells." He speaks pretty frankly, for Stiles being a stranger. Then he grins. "So, are you a good witch or a bad witch?"
Laughing a little, Stiles says, "I guess I'm just good with canines." He seems to consider the remark a bit funny, though he doesn't explain, continuing to pet and scritch the hefty dog. He quirks an eyebrow at the mention of a lich, saying, "I'm gonna assume you don't mean in D&D. Luckily I've never run into a lich, but--yeah, I mean, I'd say I'm a good witch, or at least witch-in-training." He grins again. "Maybe more of an enchanter-in-training? Dunno what the best term is. So far, that's more of what I do. Less spell-slinging, more enchantments. But that takes ingredients and stuff."
"You're lucky," Skitch says. "From what I've read about them, they're nasty as anything." Scooby chuffs agreement, although his eyes are closed and his weight is fully against Stiles' legs, barely keeping himself upright. "So you're the guy I come to when I need a Lightbringer, then. I'll make a note." Skitch chuckles, although it's really more at himself than at his new buddy. "So how long are you in town?" he asks. "I'm guessing 'visiting' doesn't mean you're on the school track team or anything."
Laughing some, Stiles says, "Ah, no. More of a... longer term thing. I've got some friends with some business in town, which is super vague I know, but... y'know, the thing about their business is it's theirs, and I figure I'm better off not spreading it around." He gives a half-apologetic look and shrugs. "Don't mean to come across like a jerk, just--y'know. Privacy and all, right?" He does chuckle again, reflecting on the "Lightbringer" comment, and says, "Well, we should totally look for the shop, but I think Scooby's got me pinned, and I didn't think to get any doggy treats at the store--unless he likes cookie dough ingredients or vegan fruit jerky?" Which, from the look on his face, he's just realizes sounds like a pretty odd combination.
"Oh, I know that kind of business,' Skitch says, rolling his eyes a bit. "It tends to go hand in hand with knowing about liches and enchanting stuff." He holds up a hand. "So you don't have to explain at all." He grins when Stiles mentions his captor, and he gives the lead a tug. "C'mon, Scoob. He's gonna go with us." The little bulldog pushes to his feet with a grunt and moves to stand between the two teenagers, looking between them.
"Dude. Scooby will eat anything. But you know cookie dough has eggs, right?" Skitch grins, and motions down the street. "According to Google, we're just a block over." He wrinkles his nose, thinking. "Vegan fruit roll up...oh, because the gelatin would have to be... Okay."
Laughing, Stiles says, "Yeah, but right now it's not cookie dough. It's flour and eggs and stuff." He also nods with Skitch's responses, visibly appreciating the understanding, and when Scooby lets him up, Stiles grins and stands, nodding at the mention of the almighty Google. "All right, cool. Lead the way, then! Man, I hope their ingredients are fresh enough. Do you know how hard it is to reconstitute dried mandrake root?" He rolls his eyes and makes a bit of a face, but he doesn't really seem to be kidding, either. After a moment, he thinks to say, "I'll see if I can introduce you to the guys, though. I bet Derek'd love to meet you. He's our al--hm. Like, basically our leader, I guess you'd say."
Port-Au-Feu - The Den
The first two buildings that catch the eye of any visitor are an old tavern, bearing a heavy wooden sign with "MOONSTRUCK" carved into it in worn, smoothed letters. The place has a friendly air, although even in the daytime the windows are darkened. Only the faint shapes of the patrons inside can be seen, sitting at at booths near the windows. There's a small downward step into the tavern, where a pair of double doors, heavy wood adorned with brass handles worn to a dull shine through years of use, lead onward.
On the opposite side of the street is a small grocery store. Faded green letters read "Faolan Bro's" over the door. Large plate-glass windows show aged tile, an older style deli counter with a pair of young men working behind it, and aisle after aisle of goods. A few patrons mill about inside--the place is never empty. Next to it sits a small hostel-style building, the two-story construction standing out some among the other buildings. The vines have almost completely covered the building, practically hiding it among the trees of the street.
There's a dull, omnipresent buzz of conversation wafting through the air, accompanied by a similarly omnipresent aroma of someone cooking--the smell carried through the neighborhood by light breezes.
Stiles moves northwest toward: Main Street.
Port-Au-Feu - Main Street
Main Street, Sangria. This long, perfectly straight street runs the entire length of the city--and like any large city, there is a constant dull roar of activity. Cars and pedestrians fill the streets, passing by the restaurants and shops of the commercial district, or moving around the bases of the skyscrapers that form the financial district. Amidst this sea of people and cars, the glows of signs and street lamps stand almost like beacons--and on the sides, streets--large and small--branch off, leading to neighborhoods sheltered from the sound of the city.
Skitch arrives from the southeast: The Den.
"Fair enough," Skitch says about the cookie dough ingredients, and starts heading down the street. "I don't know that I've ever had to work with mandrake root. It's poisonous, right?" Skitch sounds impressed. "Enchanting sounds a lot like science," he observes. "Like chemistry and stuff. That I can wrap my head around." He grins, and waits for Scooby to inspect a lamp post. "Leader, huh? Like, your head witch or enchanter or whatever?" He nods, starting up again as Scooby catches up. "That sounds cool. I barely know anyone in town, other than clerks and stuff."
"They're definitely toxic," Stiles says with a nod. "And that's part of the problem. You have to be super careful when rehydrating it, and then you have to dispose of the water, and... well, y'know. Messy. Real bad for pets." He nods thoughtfully at the mention of science and says, "Yeah, it's a lot like chemistry, just... well, different math, I guess." He smirks a little at the idea of Derek as a "head witch" but says, "Uh. More whatever, but yeah. Also my boyfriend, which has its perks but can also be a ton of work." He rolls his eyes and grins again. "I swear, the rest of them, it's like they're all puppies sometimes." He nods along with the mention of not knowing many people, and he smirks. "You're the second person I've met. The first was this guy who was pissy about not getting beer, so he tried to take it out on me. Fortunately, we got past it."
Skitch grins at the revelation that Stiles has a boyfriend, and bobs his head. "I can imagine that's a whole dynamics issue at times," he says sympathetically. "I'm currently flying solo in all ways that matter, so like I said, I'm definitely down for meeting new people. Especially puppies." He laughs, and heads across the street at the crosswalk, heading towards their destination. "I've met two," he says. "A black guy who took me for a beer at this sketchy place and a naked guy I met in the woods who was unfairly hot."
"Damn," Stiles says, laughing. "Okay, maybe I need to meet who you're meeting." A pause, and he adds, "Uh, Derek and I have... a kinda open relationship, I guess you'd say. It's a long story, but I've got another boyfriend, Lance, and... well, I guess the term for it's 'poly'? Sorry, I'm still kinda new to all the terminology and all that. It just kinda... happened that way." He flushes slightly, more embarrassed by his uncertainty than anything to do with his actual situation, and then tries to steer to firmer ground. "So, the shop's on this block? Looks like a pretty good area, at least. Low sketch factor."
"Sounds cool," Skitch says honestly, tipping a grin at the other boy. "I'm down with polyamory, or will be, when the time comes." He lifts his eyebrows, and exhales heavily. "Once the seal is broken." His own flush is for that admission, and it lingers even after Stiles--mercifully--gets back to their mission. "Yeah, it should be a couple of doors down...oh, wait. This is it." Skitch stops in front of a sort of ordinary-looking shop, and frowns. "It lacks mystery," he says, furrowing his brow. "That's city life for you."
Stiles stumbles slightly at the sudden admission, then flashes an abrupt, knowing grin at Skitch. "Oh, dude. I feel you there. I was going so nuts when I met Lance--it was crazy. He met me, and I guess he liked what he saw, 'cause...." He trails off, shaking his head, and says fondly, "Maybe I shouldn't tell people this story, but, uh, suffice to say, I later had to explain to my dad why my pants were abandoned in the kitchen." He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. He clucks his tongue a couple of times as they reach the stop, story apparently forgotten, and says, "Well, y'know. Books, covers. Shops, front doors. Should we go in?"
Skitch stops and turns to stare at Stiles after the story, his expression sort of awed. "Dude. That's so hot." He means it, too. Earnest doesn't even begin to cover the various emotions in those four words. Skitch swallows audibly, and nods as Stiles suggests entering. Bending down, he scoops up Scooby and tucks him under his arm. "Let's do it," he says, and pushes open the door.
Skitch exits toward: Magic Shop. Stiles exits toward: Magic Shop.
The first thing most notice is the smell, a curious mélange of scents ranging from incense and spiced honey to the tang of dried herbs and other, more exotic things, from garden variety mugwart to downy phoenix feathers. The shop is spacious and orderly, organized so that upon entering through the front door, one ascends a few wooden steps to an open space. Here, a circular wooden counter stands before an array of cabinets and shelves, where prepared orders are kept. All around, various stands hold popular items on display. Past the front area, to the left one can see a twisting path of shelves lit by hanging globes of light, each shelf crammed to bursting with mysterious tomes and scrolls. To the right, a similar area of shelves holds various jars, bottles, and other containers filled with mystic reagents and artifacts.
The door is finely carved wood with an bronze handle and a small silver knob set in the wall beside it. A small, multifaceted crystal is set in the wall above the knob, currently glowing amethyst.
Outside, it's snowing heavily.
The bell over the door jingles softly as Stiles enters.
Stiles doesn't bother to hide his self-satisfied grin as he follows Skitch into the shop. He reaches over to give Scooby a pat as they enter, looking around to take in their surroundings. "Huh," he says, bobbing his head. "Looks pretty legit. Lots of stuff, really full, smells completely nuts. Must be a magic shop, right?" He nods toward the section with the books and scrolls. "Looks like we should start over there? They'll probably have what you want. Hopefully they believe in alphabetizing. Even better if it's in English!"
Skitch is as impressed as Stiles at the interior of the shop, stopping just inside the door to take in the smells and sights. "Seems like," he saya of its legitimacy. "If that counter were over there, it'd be almost exactly like the one in my home town." He nods when Stiles finds the book section, and moves in that direction. Scooby, for his part, inspects whatever comes closest to his nose, sniffing and sneexing at various components and artifacts.
Sadly, the books are not in anything resembling order. This makes Skitch grind his teeth a bit as he picks up a tome and studies the cover. "This might take a minute."
Stiles sighs and nods. "Yeah, typical. A lot of mage-types apparently just say a word and get the book--or whatever--they want, so I've seen lots of places that don't exactly use the Dewey Decimal System." He bends down to examine the bookshelves, looking over the titles to see if anything leaps out at him, but it doesn't seem so. "Well. Guess we can just start looking, then. I'll go right... you go left?" This said, he starts carefully searching for the Grayson's Compendium as previously indicated. "My hometown doesn't even have a magic shop," he confesses. "Which, I guess, is obvious. Thus the trips to San Francisco."
"I think it's the creative mind," Skitch says. "At least, that's what they said back home. Something about organization being too confining or something." He shudders. "I would literally die if I had to live like that. I'm not a fanatic about clean, but I insist on organized." He bends to study the shelves, moving left. "My home town had a pretty nice one," he says, pulling out a book to study the cover. "But I think that was because it was run by a fairy. As in, the Unseelie Court kind. Not Tinkerbell." He wrinkles his nose. "Your set up sounds hella inconvenient."
Nodding some, Stiles says, "Beacon Hills doesn't have much of a magic expert, unless you count the town veterinarian. And I know. It's as bad as it sounds." He snorts softly in disapproval and crouches down to peer at a lower shelf, reaching to wipe dust from a book cover. "And... fairies. Yeah. I've met one or two of the fae. They're... kinda awesome but also terrifying. Like-well, like most supernatural things I've met before, actually." He snorts again, this time more of a laugh, and glances back up to Skitch. "Anyway, I'm more used to how witches do stuff. If you wanna see a really great witch's library, I should show you Rowanwood sometime."
"My home town was like a nexus or something," Skitch says, squatting to peer at a stack of horizontal books. "We had a little bit of everything, even if most of the people didn't realize it." He laughs at the descriptor of the fae, and nods, adjusting a squirming Scooby in his arm. "Yeah. Idao was handsome as anything, and a nice guy, but you did not want to get on his bad side." He shudders, and makes an interested noise as he finds a promising shelf. He perks at the mention of a good library, and swivels his head to look at the other boy. "Rowanwood? Why does that name sound familiar?"
Stiles sets down his grocery bag and starts to rummage around in particularly chaotic section of shelf, trying to restore some sense of order, and explains, "Yeah, Beacon Hills is the same way--a telluric nexus--that's why it's called that. The place is literally a beacon for the supernatural. And... dunno? It's a kind of magic school, sort of. It's where we're all staying right now. It's--well. It's not really where it is. Like, it's in a pocket dimension or something and just has connecting points to the world in different spots. You can literally walk in the gate in San Francisco and walk out in Seattle. It's actually how we got here. The Grand Coven of witches runs it--it's where I'm doing my training, mostly."
Skitch stops looking at his shelf to stare at Stiles. "Yeah. None of that sounds familiar, so I don't know what I was thinking of." He grins, and lifts his eyebrows. "Quantum shifting is pretty impressive, though. I wouldn't mind checking it out." He grins. "Especially if there's a bunch of cute guys there." He pauses, frowning. "I mean. Something called the Grand Coven might not be keen on that idea, though." He finally relents to squirming Scooby, setting him down on the floor and stepping on his lead to hold him in place. "In my experience, things with Grand and Council in their names tend to have huge sticks up their ass."
Stiles barks out a laugh at that, nodding, and says, "They sound like it, huh? But, nah. Ms. Snow and Ms. Goode are really nice. Scary as hell, but nice. And, uh, trust me. There's plenty of cute guys there." He mutters, half under his breath, "I swear, it's gotta be a wolf instinct thing. They only bite the hot ones or something." He doesn't seem to realize, offhand, what he's said or that it might give things away, as he's still digging intently through books. "It's a little nuts, actually, being the--oh." Then it hits him. "The, uh. Heh, yeah. The human." He glances at Skitch warily to test his reaction.
Skitch has good hearing and a quick brain, and by the time Stiles is looking to gauge his reaction, he's in front of him, his hand wrapped in Scooby's leash. "Okay. Al--hmm. Wolves bite hot ones. The human." He narrows his eyes, and looks around the shop before leaning in and lowering his voice. "Are you hanging out with werewolves?"
Nodding, Stiles sighs. "Yep. And apparently shooting off my big mouth again, but--Derek, my boyfriend, he's the alpha. Well, the senior alpha. The other alpha's actually my best friend, Scott. Kind of a long story. Anyway, yeah. They're actually really awesome guys--well, and also Erica. She's pretty awesome, definitely not a guy." He smirks, shaking his head. "Yep. Gonna so get my ass kicked for that one. Probably only verbally, in the ball-busting sense. Ethan'll never let me hear the end of it. But, uh--just let me know if you're gonna freak out, okay?"
Skitch stares for a long moment after the question, studying Stiles' face for the wind-up. Then, finding none, he reaches up and slaps the other boy on the chest. "Dude. That is so friggin' cool." He looks worried, though, when he stops to think about what Stiles has actually said. "I don't want you to get in trouble, though. Best friend or not, it's not a good idea to have a bunch of werewolves mad at you." As if he needs to tell Stiles that. "The couple back home were complete assholes, and super antisocial. Luckily, they were only a problem for a couple of days a month." He raises his hand and offers the Boy Scout salute. "I promise I won't say anything to anyone."
Grinning, Stiles says, "Oh, don't worry. They wouldn't actually kick my ass. Worst that's ever actually happened to my ass from any of them is--uh." He blushes a bit and coughs, grinning sheepishly. He reaches up to awkwardly rub the back of his head and says, "That'd be TMI, probably, huh? Sorry. Anyway, the guys in my pack all have really good control. None of them'd ever really hurt me, especially not Scott or Derek. So it's cool, and--actually, I'll see if I can get some of 'em to meet you. If you've only met asshole werewolves, then it'd be good for you to meet some of the good guys."
You attempt to summon Derek Hale.
Skitch blushes a bit at the thought of what Stiles might be referring to, and doesn't confirm or deny if it's TMI (it is, but not in the way you'd expect). Instead, he nods, and steps back, easing Scooby back, as well. "That's good to know," he says. "Although, that's probably safe to assume anyway, if you're staying with witches. They're probably not going to put up with any nonsense." He moves back to the search, crouching again. "I look forward to meeting them."
Stiles grunts and starts just stacking the books neatly on the floor, giving up on trying to make sense of the jumble. "Well," he grouses, "do you think they'll give you a discount if we reorganize their shelves for them?" He can't help grinning at Skitch's reaction, taking a little pride in spite of himself. Or maybe not so much in spite. He's very happy about his relationships and of the pack in general, and since he's ended up being honest with Skitch about things, he's not seeing much reason to be too shy. "Anyway, you should meet the pack. If you want, we could go look for some of 'em after we find your book. Plus maybe get Scooby a snack for being such a patient." He cannot resist looking over at the bulldog and asking, in the voice people always ask a dog, "Who's a good boy?"
As if on cue, debatably the best boy opens the door almost silently, and his eyes go immediately to Stiles. Letting the door shut on its own, Derek strides with purpose over towards Stiles and this stranger he's speaking with. When he reaches them, he stays next to Stiles, folding his arms on his chest. He's rather stoic; it's hard to read his expression, though his eyes are remarkably, superhumanly keen. There's just something about him that marks him as someone not to be trifled with. Maybe it's the obvious musculature and posture.
Scooby is totally a good boy. Look at the way he wags his stubby tail at the question, huffing happily, and ducking his head. Me. I am the best boy. Just ask the blonde kid.
"If the owner's a fae, probably," Skitch predicts about possible discounts. "They like trading favors. But I think that old guy behind the counter is...likely..." Skitch trails off as the newcomer enters and positions himself next to Stiles. The teenager studies the older man, and works his mouth around awkwardly. "Uh. Hello."
HOLY CRAP WHO IS THAT? THAT SMELL OH MY DOG THAT SMELL I KNOW IT. Scooby hits the end of his lead when Derek appears, barking excitedly and struggling to pull himself closer to the alpha. OH MY GOD THERE'S SO MUCH SMELL.
Skitch forces a chuckle as he attempts to calm his dog. "Scooby also says hello."
Stiles looks up, seeing Derek, and a grin spreads across his face. "Well," he chuckles brightly, "speak of the Sourwolf." He puts down the books he was going through, standing, and moves to hug Derek as he approaches, saying, "Derek! I was just telling Skitch about you. Which, by the way, this is Skitch--and, like he said, Scooby. Skitch's another student of magic I met at the store, and he helped me find this shop. I'm helping him find a book, and I was just telling him how awesome my friends and boyfriend who're visiting town with me are." Looking to Skitch, he explains, just for the sake of propriety, "This is Derek Hale, the alpha I mentioned." Then, he leans in to fondly kiss Derek hello.
Derek nods first to Scooby, then to Skitch. Just one nod to each. He has an easy way about him, a confidence that indicates his comfort in not having to assert himself to prove anything. He also doesn't make any move to introduce himself. Stiles does that much better than he typically does himself. Though the appellation of "Sourwolf" makes one brow raise.
The other raises with the mention of him being an alpha. There's an unspoken question to Stiles. Something like "you told him about the pack?" But he does smile very slightly when he gets, and gives, a kiss.
"Ah. Student of magic is a bit of a stretch," Skitch says, offering a tilted grin. "I'm really more of an avid student of supernatural things." He returns the nod automatically, and at his feet, Scooby sits down, still staring up at the alpha. The question has Skitch holding up his hands. "I kind of figured it out," he says quickly. "Like I said, I know a lot of stuff, and I put it together. I do that a lot. Probably more than I ought to. It can be a problem." He shakes himself, and holds up his hand in the Scout salute again. "And I swear, I'm not telling anyone anything."
"I'm gonna take him to see Rowanwood, anyway," Stiles explains to Derek once their lips have parted, gesturing over at Skitch. "I figured I should warn him about who he'll meet." True, perhaps he let slip more than he intended, but it was only after Skitch had admitted to his magic studies, and Skitch made the connections on his own. He gestures to emphasize Skitch's salute as if to suggest that anyone who offers that kind of promise is probably trustworthy. Plus, Scooby seems like a fairly unimpeachable reference, too. "Anyway, I figure he'll make a good friend for us to have, and I knew it'd be good for him to meet you guys."
That makes more sense. Derek seems satisfied enough by what he can determine from what he's told. He nods once, then practically flows down to crouch there, looking to Scooby. He seeks out the dog's eyes, to look into them. After a few seconds of this, then he extends a hand to the small dog. "He comes with a good reference." It's pretty often that he and Stiles operate on what some would call the same wavelength. Clearly, Stiles is also highly trusted.
OH MY GOD HE CAME DOWN HERE. Scooby pulls against the lead when Derek crouches, and Skitch takes advantage of the brief moment the alpha's attention is diverted to mouth 'oh my god' at Stiles before grinning down at his dog. "That reference works both ways," he says. "Scooby's pretty good about character references." He shift to allow the bulldog enough lead to just get to Derek. "And Stiles is right. I'm the guy in the chair you'll be glad to know." That's said with the confidence of One Who Knows His Shit. "I used to help a couple of groups back home, unofficially, for a little while." He wrinkles his nose. "They weren't werewolves, though. Just regular asshole bigoted hunters. Which is why I stopped." He clears his throat, suddenly very aware of the room. "Helping them, I mean."
Stiles just grins at Skitch. Yep, he's definitely very happy with the Derek situation and doesn't care who knows it. He does give a soft snort at the mention of hunters, saying, "We've had a few of those, too. We generally try to help them see the error of their ways." He picks up another couple of books, glancing at them, and resumes stacking. "But I figure more friends is always good, and trust me, the pack are all very good people to have as friends. And we can always use more good friends, ourselves." He glances at Derek as if to affirm his claim.
Since Stiles can handle the situation, Derek concentrates for the moment on interacting with Scooby. He reaches out to pet the dog very gently, to let Scooby sniff him and become more familiar with him. There's a momentary delay in his response to Stiles, as Derek has to look up and notice visibly that they've paused in talking.
"Yes."
That's it. Derek turns back to Scooby. Stiles is right, and Derek has confirmed his claim. His role is fulfilled. He can go back to silent communication with the dog.
Well. Derek's response seems succinct enough, something the overly verbose Skitch can actually appreciate. He nods, giving Stile a wry smile as he turns back to his search. Apparently, Derek is good luck, because he almost immediately makes a happy sound. "Oh, man. Here it is!" He holds up a thick book with a black and silver cover. "I've needed a new copy for ages." He grins, and holds it up triumphantly, showing it to Stiles, then Scooby, and possibly also Derek, if he's looking. New friends, the potential of meeting cute guys, and a new Grayson's. Life is sweet.