[He keeps moving, but every minute makes him want to turn around and track her. He resists the urge, because he understands why she'd want to be the one searching. She doesn't want to be hunted. Even if he wouldn't, he would never, but - he can understand the feeling. He rubs his arm, the tattoo, and the spot where an Argent arrow pinned him to a tree. There's no mark left, but he's not likely to forget that night.
When the rustle comes, he turns sharply, falling into a half crouch, ready for - anything, anyone, he has no idea who might try to get the drop on him - but when he recognizes Allison (recognizes, because it smells like her, but different, it looks like her, but different) he straightens almost immediately.
Her reaction makes him swallow hard, and he nods slowly, taking a tentative step forward.]
I'm Scott.
[He wonders if they all did that automatically: start referring to each other by their last names, to make it easier to forget or ignore what might have been. So he gives her is first name, because that's all he's ever wanted to be.]
Allison-- [He starts to reach for her, he wants to pull her into a hug, but he pauses, and waits to see if it's all right.]
[Spam]
When the rustle comes, he turns sharply, falling into a half crouch, ready for - anything, anyone, he has no idea who might try to get the drop on him - but when he recognizes Allison (recognizes, because it smells like her, but different, it looks like her, but different) he straightens almost immediately.
Her reaction makes him swallow hard, and he nods slowly, taking a tentative step forward.]
I'm Scott.
[He wonders if they all did that automatically: start referring to each other by their last names, to make it easier to forget or ignore what might have been. So he gives her is first name, because that's all he's ever wanted to be.]
Allison-- [He starts to reach for her, he wants to pull her into a hug, but he pauses, and waits to see if it's all right.]