"I wasn't supposed to know about that." Stiles replied helpfully, looking around as they garnered several odd looks. All in a day's work, for them. "Yeah it was pretty bad. Saw the crime scene photos on my dad's desk, and by on I mean inside of the locked drawer at the very bottom of his file folders."
"That's not a bad idea," Stiles considered it, trying to ignore the memories of the photos he'd seen. He hadn't looked at the bottom of that particular drawer after that. "It was an old guy on the outskirts of town. Do you think you could smell that? Can you smell evil?"
Scott rolled up his nose. "I don't think I can smell evil. But I can smell anger, and aggression, and," there was a definite ugh face at this point, "arousal."
Stiles tried to refrain from laughing, but the chortles burst out of him and he snickered, managing to tame them into giggles. "Dude, this school must be hell with all the teenage pheromones around."
Scott buries his head in his hands. "It really, really bad dude." He can't help but try to get some revenge for the laughter, though, so: "but not as bad as your room."
Scott crossed his eyes right back. "Everybody! Everybody! Everybody who has ever been in anyone's room, has breathed in through their nose and noticed how it smelled, and it is not my fault that I am better at it then other people."
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Stiles knew it wasn't Scott's fault - he hadn't done it intentionally, just a side effect of the whole werewolf-thing.
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