He’s not sure what drew him back to Beacon Hills, Duran had dipped the second he got a chance to. He’d maintained contact with his family via phone calls and the occasional visit, but Duran had made it a point to live further north, staying just north of California for a long time.
Now? Now he’s back, and had been back for not even a day when he’s already running into trouble inside the hotel he’s staying at. Not trouble involving him, but trouble out in the hallway, all the same.
Hey, it’s dark, alright? He can’t be assed to try to see passed the ungodly dim lighting in these cheap ass hotels, so he could be looking at anything, really. Could be something supernatural, or it could be some stranger standing there ominously, waiting to scare the crap out of the next innocent person who walks by.
He’d just finished dialing Stiles’ number as he steps inside the elevator. He doesn’t want to immediately assume the worst, but Duran is far more skittish than he had ever admitted.
Pressing every button at once, Duran forces a smile on his face. “Hey, Stiles? Just arrived in town ‘bout an hour ago. I was going to surprise you and dad, but ah, I didn’t check to see if you were in town either. How’s it going?“
The figure in the distance begans moving toward Duran, hunching over. In the dim lighting, Duran is almost certain that it’s a supernatural something. So, he does what any other tough, overly defensive man would do in this situation:
