I have a son. His name is Michislav Stilinski. But we call him Stiles. I remember. When Stiles was a little kid, he couldn't say his first name. Not sure why. It pretty much rolls off the tongue. But, uh, the closest he could get was "mischief." His mother called him that until... I remember when, uh... When Stiles first got his Jeep. It belonged to his mother. She wanted him to have it. The first time when he took a spin behind the wheel, he went straight into a ditch. I gave him his first roll of duct tape that day. He was always getting into trouble. But he always had a good heart. Always. We're here tonight because my goofball son decided to drag Scott, his greatest friend in the world, into the woods to see a dead body.
– I didn't say it back.
– You don't have to.
– You of all people, Scott, should know what happens to a lone wolf.
– He's not alone! He's got a pack.
– And Theo's not in it. But I am.
– I'm not in the pack, but... no one likes a Nazi.
Listen, I remember something. At the start of the year, Stiles was trying to find a place for you guys to live after graduation. He said you were getting an apartment together. And I remember saying something to Stiles. Something like it's not always a good idea to live with your friends. Even your best friend. But Stiles said it wouldn't matter because you weren't just friends. You guys were more like brothers.
– I can't believe we're not in high school anymore. Kind of feels like nothing's really changed.
– Everything's changed.
– Tell me one thing about Stiles that you remember. Just one.
– You swipe that key card, I'll tell you anything you want.
– Sheriff... They are coming.
– One thing. Just one!
– He was smart! Smart enough not to trust me.
– Me? You want me to... stop them? You know how many they are?
– Yeah. A lot of them. So get going.
– There are hundreds of waiting rooms in this train station which apparently now also serves as a high school library. It's impossible.
– We can try.
– Where do you get this implausible optimism?
– Definitely not from my father.
– Are you okay?
– I think so. I finally saw the girls' locker room. It's not that different. It's kind of disappointing.
– I don't really have a clear picture of where I was.
– I marked the territory. Visually. I marked it visually.
You have no self-preservation instincts. How are you my daughter?