[ The journal's one thing, the weapons are... a problem. Nick's brow furrows as he processes that news, expression darkening. The real problem is that they aren't actually wrong. Hunter's kind of a vague term, but it's on the right wavelength.

Stiles's response causes a flicker of confusion to cross his features, then he casts a quick glance over his shoulder to the rest of the station. It's quiet, just not quiet enough. Not for a conversation like this, anyway, and when Nick looks back to them he places a hand on the desk, leaning forward and lowering his voice. ] I'm not going to hurt you.

[ He says it like he's used to having to say it, words more firm than sensitive. And after a slight beat, a shot in the dark: ] Or Derek. I don't hunt anyone unless they give me a reason to.

[ Another officer passes by the desk, earning a distracted glance from Nick. ] Can we do this somewhere else?