Scott
He doesn't really know all that much about Derek. He knows about that horrible night which left that stick house and the land around it smell like death and sadness, he's heard all about Kate, but out side of those facts? There's only a handful of things here and there; most of them aren't even worthy of being mentioned. Mentioning that just earns him a flat stare from anyone who's spent more than five minutes at a pack meeting. Really, the only fact he would have actually liked to know about is that there's another Hale pack, up north somewhere in Oregon. As in a group of werewolves related to Derek who might be willing to lend some knowledge.
Yeah, that would have been really freaking helpful to know. Even though Allison says he can be too focused on small things, he's pretty confident in his ability to pick up on incredibly important things. Okay, besides the whole club thing. That was totally an exception.
Lucky for his own hide, their sister pack is taking a trip down to see what's become of Beacon Hills, and to hopefully form a bond between Derek and their Alpha. So, he hasn't really done any damage as the second-in-command of a young pack. Having spent the longest time as a wolf out of all the second generation hasn't improved on his social skills when it comes to making a good impression. Skills that he needed between now, on Stiles' couch discussing the upcoming meeting; and when they meet the pack Derek can't really tell anyone anything about because of some family argument he refuses to explain. It's like those endless parallels he used to get trapped in when he thought about telling Mom.
"- has her own bestiary, which might be nice, y'know, seeing as I'm the only one who ever actually attempts to update it," Stiles sighs into his screen. Scott tunes in at the mention of the bestiary, but soon drops it in favor of dissecting and naming the scents imbedded in the couch. They'll be up all night, doing this. Talking, now and then, but mostly just trying to forget all of the memories they shouldn't have at their age and be Scott and Stiles without the inability to make cohesive decisions. Scott is sprawled on the lone couch crushed in a corner of the room, watching Stiles flip through the translated bestiary and secretly wishing he wasn't so familiar with some of the entries.
Mornings in his house would be so much easier if he didn't have the upcoming meeting weighing on his mind. Which is why he just mumbles at the Sheriff from his spot on the couch and goes back to his state of half-sleep that won't be broken until Stiles kicks him out.