(the pointed look is one jonas meets, brow creasing at the intensity. it's alarming, giving him a thrill up his spine that persists as stiles begins to speak of his dad—the cop—scott, and some guy with a long track record. there's nothing for him to anchor himself to in the explanation, lost as to why this particular topic would be relevant.

then the misdeed's aired, and jonas breathes in sharply through his nose.) What the fuck? Uh, where does he get off saying something like that?

(his first reaction to stiles cutting himself off is a fisting of fingers that'd been loosely gathered between his knees, sitting up with a grimace at how indignant he feels on his friend's behalf. it seems as though the story's causing him physical pain and jonas, who's never been particularly astute, blames it on that scar he refuses to let him heal. there are thoughts on where it'll lead once stiles calms down, still confused, but the "what if it was dad?" that surfaces scatters them.

sasuke makes a comment, predictably drawing his attention.)

Some? All, (it's all new, every aspect of it, and jonas never imagined this would be what stiles wanted to discuss—not in a million years,) this is unreal. Did they lock that guy up? You saw it, right?

(patience wins out over a hair-trigger temper that's only worsened in the months he's been here, and if he sees sasuke's hand or the fingers being held up to stiles there's no indication of it. he's far too busy shuffling himself down the couch to sit at the opposite arm that brings him that much closer to his best friend.)

Jesus, in a police station, too. The balls on him. Your dad okay? He wasn't too freaked out, was he?