So what are you doing with me? Because Scott can find me. He knows my scent! It's pungent, it's more like a stench. He could find me even if I was buried at the bottom of a sewer covered in fecal matter and urine.
You have a nag for creating a vivid picture, Mr. Stilinski. Let me paint one of my own. Scott McCall finds his best friend bloodied and beaten to a pulp. How does that sound now?
I think I might prefer more of a still life or a landscape, you know?