poly_chromatic | seven ✚ timeworn

[ Even though it's a Saturday morning, Scott McCall had a full day planned. He had a breakfast with Stiles on the books. Those are top priority, even at this age. He was going to birth a horse shortly after. (Someone has to do it.) He'd planned on taking a few hours at the clinic because some of his favorite owners were on the books. They knew not to expect him every week - or every month, even, but he's in Beacon Hills for an unspecified amount of time. Dropping in on Deaton's practice has to happen. It brings back memories. He sees himself in the younger kid working there. It's hard not to. Innocence and bright eyes. A kid that hasn't seen the world yet.

But, all those plans change when he wakes up not in his old house. He never sold it. It held too many memories. He doesn't live in Beacon Hills full time, but he can't bring himself to sell it. Even though he's told over and over, this is a seller's market. Not that it matters now.

The room he wakes up in is the room of a teenager.

Wolfsbane?

He's not sure. It's a poor kidnapping because the bedroom door is unlocked.

After he finds his network device and sorts himself out, he addresses everyone. The face is older, a lot older than they're used to. But, he's fine with it. It's him. For those relatives and friends not in the apartment this morning they're in for quite a shock. ]

I get it. It's like a conference call on Skype. [ He looks impressed. ] My name is Scott McCall. I have a few questions if anyone out there can oblige me. Two minutes. It's all I need.

[ all replies will come from

paraveterinary ]