Alright! [ it's bitten out, Derek keeping a tenuous grip on his own temper. as he slides the car to the pavement, however, he reaches out one-handed to take a hold of Stiles' wrist. his intent is merely to keep him there, and his hand is firm but not as vice-like as its been. he seldom feels a real need to explain himself, his actions, but right now - right now his jaw is clamped against them. he shakes his head, sighing, and makes an effort to keep the tension from his voice, to sound authoritative but calm, steady. ]

Listen to me. I saw you walking down the street. Like - this, [ he gestures to Stiles' rumpled state of dress. ] You wouldn't respond to anything. You don't remember how this happened to you?