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Scott has never fully understood the point of human traditions.
Even when he was human (though remembering that far back is a struggle) he can't recall having much of a taste for them. Scott inspects the pumpkin Shelby has handed him, turning it this way and that, before looking at her with a mixture of confusion and curiosity.
"And the point of this is?"
"Well, the original tradition of it was to keep away fae." Shelby explains, smiling widely at him.
Scott notes the way her smile curls awkwardly around her fangs. She's still not used to them. He can tell by the various cuts that cover her bottom lip, all in differing stages of healing. It's cute, in a way, comparable to a kitten discovering its claws for the first time.
Anyway. Pumpkins. Shelby was explaining the pumpkins.
Scott tunes back in to Shelby's little rant about pumpkin lights and fae and the strange human tradition of allowing children to consume near fatal amounts of sugar in one evening.
"—but the main reason is, it's just really fun." Shelby finishes, twirling around and presenting her own pumpkin with a 'ta-da!' motion.
"Purposefully putting yourself elbow deep in a pumpkin and getting its flesh under your nails for days is fun?" Scott's tone is dry and he looks to Shelby, one eyebrow raised.
She pouts. "Don't be a spoilsport, Scott. Think of it as a coven bonding activity!"
"The others have agreed to this?"
"Well..." Shelby drags out the word, scuffing her shoes against the dark oak floor. "You were kinda the first person I asked." She mumbles, not looking at him.
Scott can't help but feel a spark of affection at her words, not that he'd ever admit it aloud.
He knows, technically speaking, that Shelby isn't his fledgling, but the instinct to protect and provide for the younger vampire is there all the same.
He wants Shelby to be happy–in the castle and the coven–and he supposes, out of all the things he's done for his fledglings so far, smelling of pumpkin flesh for a few hours isn't the worst outcome.
Scott sighs, playing up the role of the begrudging elder humouring the ways of the youth.
"Alright then."
Immediately, Shelby perks up, eyes shining in delight.
"Really?" She gasps, bouncing on the spot once, twice, three times. The diadem she'd found down in the crypt slips sideways on her head, nearly falling, and she reaches up to straighten it.
Scott's lips twitch as he hides his smile, still playing up the blasé attitude.
"I suppose. It is tradition, as you said. Perhaps, instead of fae, they will ward off the humans of Oakhurst and we might get a night of peace."
Shelby giggles. "I bet if you carved Pyro's face onto it, you'd scare those humans within an inch of their lives!"
Later, watching Pyro and Shelby fling pumpkin innards at one another while Owen scowls at the both of them from behind the cover of his cloak, Scott thinks that maybe some of the human traditions are worth keeping around.